


Futuere Vel Mortem

by arete214



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Dubious Consent, Fuck Or Die, M/M, Parent/Child Incest, Sex Toys, Spanking, Spell/Curse, Swearing, impala!sex, wall!sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-06
Updated: 2015-04-15
Packaged: 2018-01-23 19:16:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 90,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1576544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arete214/pseuds/arete214
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the sequel to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/1417081/chapters/2977186">For His Own Good</a> that I promised. </p>
<p>After Ellicottville, John and Dean continue hunting together and take on a powerful witch who takes issue with John's apparent lack of empathy for her desire to keep the 'love of a lifetime' alive at any cost.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mayalaen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mayalaen/gifts).



> Huge thanks go out to Mayalaen for all her help on this. Not only did she help me tweak the title, but she exercised great patience in reading disjointed bits and pieces and offering invaluable advice before reading it all again and catching those pesky typos that I'd missed. Any remaining mistakes are mine and mine alone. Thanks, Maya! This one's for you :)

John Winchester glanced up from what he’d been reading on the laptop, only to discover that Dean still hadn’t returned from the restroom. Glancing around the small diner, he wasn’t surprised to see that the cute redhead who’d been waiting on them, and giving Dean some not so subtle looks in the process, was nowhere to be seen either. Shaking his head, he returned his gaze to the laptop but was unable to hide a small smile. It had been nearly six months since Ellicottville, when John had been forced to take matters into his own hands after Dean had nearly been killed on a hunt. John knew his tactics had been unconventional, but they’d worked. Dean had regained his focus and was no longer isolating himself the way he had been after Sam had left for college. Convention, after all, didn’t play a huge role in the life of a Winchester.

Dean slid into the booth across from him and John glanced up, one eyebrow climbing toward his hairline, the earlier smile gone.

“Breakfast burritos from a gas station?” Dean offered with a smirk. “Bad, bad idea.”

“Uh huh,” John replied, picking up a napkin and handing it to his son. “You’ve got burrito on your neck.” He nodded toward Dean’s collar

Dean frowned a little, taking the napkin and rubbing at the place his dad had indicated. When the white paper came away smeared with lipstick, he crumpled it into a ball and cleared his throat. “So, anything interesting?” he asked, suddenly very interested in what John was looking at.

John’s lips twitched but he let it go. Dean was back to being himself and John sure as Hell wasn’t going to complain about that. “Yeah,” he said, turning the laptop and pushing it across the table. “Beauty queens.”

Dean smirked. “Porn? In public? Awesome.”

John rolled his eyes. “Not porn. A case. Seems three young women have died under strange circumstances in the last month. The only connection I can find is that they were all involved in beauty pageants.”

“Strange how?” Dean asked with a small frown as he began reading the pages John had opened.

“One choked to death,” John said. When Dean looked up at him with a confused frown, he continued. “On air.”

“Okay, that’s a little weird,” Dean agreed.

“She wasn’t eating or drinking anything,” John said. “She was young and healthy, talking to friends and just … choked.”

Dean frowned, turning to the laptop and reading for a moment before his eyebrows shot up. “This one drowned drinking a bottle of water?”

John nodded. “Apparently. Unlike the first one, she didn’t choke, she just breathed it into her lungs instead of swallowing it. Seems the third one had a fatal heart attack when one of her fellow contestants startled her with a friendly touch on the shoulder. Coroner says her heart and everything else about her was perfectly healthy.”

Dean read in silence for a moment. “Three different pageants, young healthy women, all checked out under unusual circumstances. Sounds like something worth investigating, all right.”

John nodded as he reached for the laptop and pulled up another page. “And I think a good place to start would be with Winona Richards.” He pushed the computer back to Dean. “The newly-appointed director of a foundation called ‘Sunlight International’, sponsor of all three pageants.”

Dean looked at the screen. “She seems kinda young to be director, doesn’t she?”

John smiled a little. “She’s 63.” His smile widened at Dean’s comical double-take.

“No way!”

John nodded again. “Either she’s had some pretty impressive work done or…”

“She’s gone full-on Dorian Gray,” Dean said, finishing the thought as he studied the picture on the screen. He looked up at his father. “So what are you thinking? She thought Oscar Wilde was on to something and traded her soul for youth and beauty?”

John tried to hide a small smile, knowing that there was a time Dean wouldn’t have admitted to knowing of The Picture of Dorian Gray, let alone who wrote it. Shaking his head a little, he replied, “A simple trade wouldn’t involve these other girls. It’s more likely …”

Dean grimaced and closed his eyes. “Don’t say it.”

John smirked as he finished. “Some sort of black magic.”

Dean let out his breath. “Freakin’ witches, again?”

“We need to check it out. Look for hex bags, talk to this Winona Richards.”

Dean sighed in resignation. “I hate dealing with witches; they’re not just evil, they’re sneaky. Bad combination.”

John grinned in amusement, knowing there were few things that really unnerved Dean and witches were at the top of that list. “We could call Ms. Richards and just ask her if she’s hexed anybody lately. Maybe tell her to knock it off.”

Dean snorted. “Yeah, right.” 

“It would sure beat the alternative,” John said, teasing. “Having to talk to beautiful pageant contestants, see what they have to say.” He frowned, feigning a serious expression. “But knowing how you feel about witches, I should probably take this one on my own. Save you the hardship.”

Dean heaved a mock sigh. “What kind of hunting partner would I be if I let you go off into unknown territory like that?”

John rolled his eyes but a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Such sacrifices you make.”

Dean grinned as they paid the bill and left the diner.

~~~

John was in their motel room the next day when Dean came in, already loosening his tie.

“What did you find out?” John asked.

“That the FBI doesn’t get the respect it used to,” Dean replied.

John rolled his eyes. “Before you take it too personally, you might want to remind yourself that you’re not actually with the FBI.” 

Dean snorted as he took off his jacket and tie and rolled his shirt sleeves up. “Yeah, well, the coroner made it clear that he thinks the FBI investigating a heart attack is a huge waste of taxpayers’ dollars.” He extracted a small notebook from his pocket and took a seat at the table. “But after the lecture, I got a look at Miranda Peterson’s autopsy report.”

John grabbed two beers out of the fridge before joining Dean at the table. “And?”

Dean shrugged. “Nothing. No injection sites, tox screen negative, heart was strong and healthy, not even any scarring from the so-called heart attack.” He took a long pull from his bottle. “I also took a look at the body but I didn’t see signs of anything supernatural that the coroner might have brushed off as something else.”

John was looking at photos of the three women. “Miranda Peterson was unusually beautiful,” he mused, frowning.

“I don’t imagine it’s easy to get into pageants otherwise,” Dean said distractedly as he sifted through the papers on the table.

John shook his head. “Take a look at this.” He handed Dean a photo. “This is a group photo of the contestants taken on the first day of the pageant.”

Dean studied the picture. “Even in a group of beautiful women, she stands out.”

John nodded, picking up another picture. “No one stands out quite like that in the photo with Jaylene Burtriss, but she was the youngest contestant in that pageant.”

Dean frowned. “What about the first girl? Katey…?”

“Kaley Coulton,” John corrected, picking up another sheet. “She wasn’t the youngest and she wasn’t abnormally beautiful, but she entered a triathlon last year, winning the event and setting a record.”

Dean thought about that for a moment. “Beauty, youth and strength.”

John nodded. “Whoever’s doing this targeted these women for those specific characteristics.”

“So what now?” Dean asked. “We check Miranda Peterson’s room for a hex bag?”

“Depends,” John said with a smirk. “Do you think the FBI talking to beauty pageant contestants would constitute a waste of taxpayer dollars?”

Dean was already rolling down his sleeves again. “I sure as Hell hope so,” he said with a grin.

~~~

John left Dean to talk to some of the girls while he asked questions of the administrative staff. 

“Well?” John said once they’d met up to compare notes.

“Same old, same old,” Dean said, “Nobody saw anyone unusual hanging around, Miranda was nice, personable, no enemies that anyone knew of, yadda yadda. Her roommate let me look around but no sign of a hex bag, anywhere. Were you able to talk to Richards?”

John shook his head. “She’s not expected back in the office until Monday, but I did manage to get her home address from her secretary.”

Dean cocked an eyebrow. “She just handed over her boss’ personal information?”

“ _He_ wouldn’t do that,” John said with a smirk. “So while he was gathering the personnel files I told him I’d need to look at, I helped myself.”

“Great,” Dean said, nodding approvingly. “While I usually try to stay away from witches whenever possible, I want to see what this 63 year old looks like up close. “

~~~

When they rang the bell at Winona Richards’ house, the man who answered appeared to be in his late twenties, early thirties. “May I help you?” he asked amiably.

John flashed a smile along with his badge. “Agent Farner, FBI.” He gestured toward Dean. “This is Agent Brewer. We’d like to speak with Winona Richards.”

The man frowned slightly. “FBI? What’s this about?”

“Is Ms. Richards here?” Dean asked in his most business-like tone.

“Yes, of course, please come in,” the man said, obviously flustered. He led them to a rather garishly-decorated sitting room. “Make yourselves comfortable and I’ll tell Winona you’re here.”

“Holy crap,” Dean muttered under his breath as he looked around the room. The walls were adorned with what could only be described as erotic paintings, many of them appearing to be quite old. Between the paintings were pedestals holding small statues. “Eros, Venus, Aphrodite,” Dean read the small plaques as he walked around the room. He came to a painting depicting a half-man, half-bull having sex with a woman. “Who’s this guy supposed to be?”

“How the Hell should I know?” John asked gruffly.

Dean chuckled and continued around the room, stopping at one point and tilting his head slightly as he tried to figure out if the position depicted was actually possible. The last wall had a variety of Oriental art, some of it even more explicit than the rest, and interspersed between the paintings were ceremonial swords in intricately-decorated scabbards. “Considering the theme of the room, do I even want to know what the swords are for?” Dean deadpanned.

John snorted. “Probably not.” 

The man returned a moment later with a beautiful woman at his side. It was obviously the same woman from the picture they had, but she was even more striking in person and without any sign of her true age or any work she might have had done. 

“Gentlemen,” she greeted them. “I’m Winona Richards. My husband, Robert, tells me you’re with the FBI.”

“Yes, ma’am, Agents Farner and Brewer,” John said. “We’d like to ask you some questions about the death of Miranda Peterson.”

She frowned slightly, looking from John to Dean and back again. “I don’t understand. Miss Peterson suffered a heart attack. It’s tragic in someone so young, yes, but it’s not exactly unheard of.”

“No,” John concurred, “but three healthy young women are dead and they were all contestants in _your_ beauty pageants.”

“Surely you can see how that might raise some questions,” Dean said, one eyebrow rising.

She put a hand to her chest as she sank into a gaudy-looking chair. “Oh my,” she said seeming flustered. After a second, she shook her head and gestured toward the sofa. “Please.” She waited for John and Dean to take a seat before she continued. “I understood that all three of those poor girls died of natural causes.”

“The idea of someone drowning while drinking a bottle of water sounded natural to you?” John asked, trying to disguise his skepticism. “Or choking to death when her airway didn’t appear to be obstructed in any way?”

Winona pursed her lips, her eyes narrowing slightly. “I had assumed, as did nearly everyone else, that there were unknown medical conditions that contributed to those deaths.”

“I guess that’s one theory,” John said evenly.

Dean cleared his throat. “Aside from being pageant contestants, do you know of anything these three girls had in common?”

As soon as Winona turned to face him, her expression softened. “I’m sorry, I don’t. As director, I have very little contact with the girls on a personal level. I knew about the deaths, of course, but I thought it was a merely a run of extremely unfortunate coincidence,” she said. “It never once occurred to me that they might be related.” She looked from Dean to John. “Surely you’re not suggesting they were murdered.”

“We’re not suggesting anything,” John said calmly. “We’re just trying to determine what happened.”

“Oh,” she said, sounding somewhat relieved. “Ok. How can I help?”

“Your appointment as director was quite recent, wasn’t it?” Dean asked.

She nodded. “Yes, about three months ago.”

“And what did you do before that?” he continued.

“I’ve worked in the pageant industry for over twenty years,” she replied. “When Sunlight International became a major sponsor, they employed me as a consultant. That was six years ago and I worked my way up from there.”

“This isn’t something I’d normally ask a lady,” Dean said with a charming smile, “but the birthdate they have listed for you can’t possibly be right, can it?”

She smiled smugly. “I’ll be 64 in November,” she said.

“Wow, that’s …. If you don’t mind me saying so, you look great for your age,” Dean said with an approving smile of his own.

She laughed lightly. “Young man, if I didn’t want people to notice and comment, I wouldn’t go to so much trouble.” She punctuated the statement with a wink.

“You could probably make a fortune selling your secrets,” John said, smiling, though it didn’t really reach his eyes. 

“I wish it were that easy,” she said lightly. “But aside from good nutrition and exercise, my only secret is good genes.” She offered a coy smile. “If they ever find a way to bottle that, I’ll be in business.” She turned to her husband. “Robert, my love, would you be a dear and get our guests something to drink?”

“Thank you, but I think we’re done here,” John said, getting to his feet while Dean did the same.

“Oh, all right,” Winona said, also rising. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be more help. I do hope you’re not wasting your time looking for a connection that doesn’t exist.”

John smiled, though Dean could tell it wasn’t genuine. “We appreciate the concern for our time,” he said. “But we’ll get to the bottom of this, one way or another. May we contact you if we have further questions?”

“Please do,” she said, holding out her hand.

John shook her hand while Dean shook Robert’s and they left the house.

“Did you buy any of that?” Dean asked as they got into the car.

John snorted. “Not a word.”

“Me neither,” Dean said. “We’ll have to check into that husband of hers. They may be working together.”

“Or she could go through husbands like you go through cheeseburgers,” John said, glancing in the rear view mirror before pulling into the street. “Good genes my ass.”

~~~

After picking up a pizza, John and Dean made their way back to the motel.

“So,” Dean said, grabbing a couple of beers from the fridge. “What’s our next move? Stake out the director?”

“We need to check out that house,” John said, opening the pizza box and grabbing a slice. “If she planted a hex bag somewhere in Miranda’s room, she could have removed it once the girl was dead.”

Dean had bitten into a slice and was nodding as he chewed. “As director, she can pretty much come and go as she pleases.”

John opened the laptop and hit a few keys while he ate. “Robert Richards,” he finally said, turning the screen so Dean could see it.

Dean frowned as he read. “So he’s actually 34,” he said. “Whatever mojo she’s using on herself, she’s not using it on him.”

“Not yet,” John concurred. “She’s either keeping herself young so she can get young men or she wants to keep this one looking good now that she’s found what she likes.”

“Or this is all crap and they’re both older than they’re letting on,” Dean said.

“That’s always a possibility,” John grumbled. He took another bite of his pizza and started browsing through pageant websites. After a few moments, he stopped clicking and just sat there, frowning at the screen.

Dean glanced at him as he reached for another slice. “Find something?”

“No,” John said, shaking his head slightly. “I just …”

“Just what?” Dean asked, taking a drink from his bottle.

“Nothing,” John said, shaking his head again. He tried to concentrate on the screen but a moment later, he abruptly got to his feet and headed into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

When he emerged a few minutes later, Dean frowned. “You OK?”

“Yeah,” John said, ignoring the beer on the table and going to the fridge for a bottle of water. After downing half of it, he nodded. “Yeah, I’m good.” He returned to the table and started going through the papers there while Dean used the laptop.

Twenty minutes later, Dean turned the laptop to face his father. “Check this out.”

John scanned the picture displayed on the screen. It was similar to the pageant pictures they’d been looking at but judging by the clothing and coloring, it looked much older. He was just about to ask Dean the significance when he caught sight of a familiar face. “Winona Richards.”

Dean nodded. “But in this picture, her name is Rebekah Winters and if the birthdate we have on her is accurate, she’s nine years old.”

“Well she sure as Hell isn’t nine years old in this picture,” John pointed out needlessly. “So we have no way of knowing how old she really is or how long she’s been doing this.”

“Or if she’s human at all, for that matter.” Dean added

“Anything on her husband?” John asked.

Dean shook his head. “Nothing. I don’t know if that’s because he is who he says he is or because he’s not.” 

“First thing in the morning, we’re paying the Richards’ another visit,” John said gruffly.

~~~

The second time they rang the bell at the Richards’ home, it was Winona herself who answered.

“Agents,” she said, obviously surprised. “I didn’t expect we’d be seeing you again.”

When John didn’t say anything, Dean smiled. “We just have a few more questions.”

“Ok,” she said uncertainly before opening the door wider. “Please, come in.”

“Is your husband at home?” John asked.

"Robert?" she asked, frowning as she led them into the same room as last time. "Yes. Why? He doesn’t have anything to do with the pageants or those girls.”

“Even so, we have a few things we’d like to ask him about,” Dean said amiably.

As if summoned, Robert appeared in the doorway. “Agents,” he said with a friendly smile as he entered the room. “I wasn’t expecting to see you again so soon.” He frowned. “Has something happened?”

“You could say that,” John said grimly. “Three young women are dead and we think you and your _wife_ are responsible.”

Dean gaped at his father for a second before masking his shock with a nervous smile. “What my partner means, is, we think it may have something to do with the pageants and, since Mrs. Richards is the director, we…”

“Save it,” Winona said, cutting him off even though her angry expression was trained on John. “Just what do you think you’ve learned, _agent_?”

John smirked. “You know we’re not FBI,” he challenged. “Just like we know what you are… witch.”

“Hunters,” she hissed, looking back and forth between the two of them.

“That’s right,” John said quietly. “We know you’ve been stealing youth and beauty from your contestants and we’re here to put an end to it.”

Dean felt like he was in a bad movie where someone had forgotten to give him the script. To his surprise, Winona’s anger seemed to dissipate before his eyes to be replaced with an expression of regret and remorse. “You don’t understand,” she said urgently. “It’s not for me, it’s…”

“For Robert,” Dean said when her words trailed off.

She turned her full attention on him, eyes pleading. “I love him,” she insisted. “You don’t know what it’s like to love someone and have to watch them grow old and die, knowing you never will.”

“Victoria,” Robert warned as he took a step toward her. “That’s enough.”

“No, James,” she said, “If we can make them understand, they’ll see that true love is worth it.”

Dean scrunched up his face in disbelief. “Worth killing innocent women for?”

“Worth _everything_ ,” she insisted.

“It’s not love if you have to kill to keep it,” John said bitterly.

Her demeanour changed so quickly it was like someone had thrown a switch and it took Dean’s mind a moment to acknowledge the transition.

“What would _you_ know about it?” she practically spat. “You’re a _hunter_ , you don’t know the meaning of true love.”

“You done?” John asked, one eyebrow raised.

“She’s right,” Robert, or James or whatever the Hell his name was, interjected. “Victoria did it for me. For us.” He gazed adoringly at the woman. “She’s the most powerful, most magnificent creature to ever walk this earth. I knew she would never age and I couldn’t bear the thought of being separated from her at the time of my death, so she made me a promise on our wedding night. Every ten years, three young women would make a sacrifice of love, strength and beauty so that our love, the one _true_ love can burn for all eternity as it was meant to.”

Dean realized his mouth was open and he clapped it shut. They weren’t just witches, they were fucking _lunatics_.

“Sacrifice?” John growled. “Try murder.”

“Don’t give me that bleeding heart bullshit,” Victoria sneered. “You’re hunters, you kill for a living and for far less reward than what we gain from what we do. I see more young women taken from this life when I turn on the evening news than you could ever attribute to the love of a millennium.”

“Call it what you want,” John said, drawing the consecrated iron knife from the sheath at the back of his waistband. “It ends now.”

James lunged at him with an inhuman growl and John had no choice but to plunge the blade into his heart. 

“No!” Victoria screamed as her husband crumpled to the floor. She was at his side in an instant, tears flowing down her cheeks as the man gasped his last breath and lay still on the floor. In a matter of seconds, he morphed from the good looking thirty-something he’d been to an old, shriveled corpse of indeterminate age.

“Look what you’ve done!” she screeched as she got to her feet. “I was right to curse you as the hateful man you are. You don’t know _how_ to love. All you know is evil and death.”

“And I’m looking at both,” John growled, moving quickly to stab her in the heart.

She looked down at the blade protruding from her chest and then up at him with a glare. “Your weapons won’t work on me,” she hissed. 

“Yeah? How about yours?” Dean asked, swinging the sword he’d grabbed from the wall and taking off her head in one clean strike.

John looked from the two bodies to the head that had rolled a few feet away and then to Dean who had blood sprayed across his face and chest. “And you wonder why people are losing respect for the FBI.”

“What the Hell was that?” Dean demanded, dropping the sword. “You walk into the home of someone you suspect to be a powerful witch and just outright _accuse_ her?”

“Yeah, well, she pissed me off,” John said irritably as he pulled his knife from Victoria’s body, wiping it clean and returning it to its sheath. “Besides, we got the result we were after.” He began rolling James’ body up in the area rug it had fallen on. “Bring one of their cars around back while I clean up in here.”

An hour later, they were on the road, Dean driving the Impala while John followed behind in the Richards’ Cadillac. They found an abandoned field flanked by trees on two sides, far enough out of town to lessen the risk of being seen and John parked the car with the bodies inside and doused it with gasoline before tossing a match at it. They watched it catch and burn for a moment, just to make sure it wasn’t going to fizzle out, and they were making their way back to the Impala when John cursed under his breath. Without a word to Dean, he stomped angrily toward the edge of the treeline.

Dean glanced over, believing that his dad probably had to piss but John’s arm movements caught his eye and he couldn’t help staring at his dad’s back in surprise. When John returned a few minutes later, Dean was still staring. “Dude! I like a good fire as much as the next guy,” he said, “but did you seriously just rub one out in the bushes?”

“It wasn’t the fire,” John snapped. He moved to get into the car but then stopped with an aggravated sigh, his posture tense. “I think that bitch did something to me.”

“Something like what?” Dean asked with a small frown.

“Like a fucking curse or something,” John growled. “I’ve been fucking horny since we left their house the first time.”

Dean stared at him for a moment before he burst out laughing.

“Damnit, Dean, it’s not funny,” John said irritably.

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Dean said, trying to control his mirth. “It’s fucking hilarious.”  
He got himself under control and cleared his throat before speaking. “So, what, like a sex curse?”

“Apparently,” John said sullenly.

“And it didn’t stop when we killed her?”

“Obviously not,” John said, gesturing at the bushes in frustration.

Dean had to stifle another snicker, knowing that he could only go so far before John took a swing at him. “So that’s why you were so … irritable when we talked to her the second time?”

“I was up half the night jerking off!” John exclaimed in frustration.

Dean snorted, then held up a hand in apology. “Ok, so … how do you fix it?”

John sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I thought I could take care of it on my own, but … it’s not working.”

“ _It_?” Dean asked, cocking one eyebrow.

John glared at him. “My cock’s working fine,” he growled. “But jerking off only lasts a short while and then it’s back, stronger than it was before.”

“So what are you going to do?”

John glanced at the burning car. “Whatever it is, unless I want to be doing it in a fucking jail cell, we’d better get out of here.”

Dean drove as they headed back toward the motel.

“Stop up here,” John said, indicating a small bar a couple of blocks from where they were staying.

“You want a drink?” Dean asked, surprised.

“No,” John said shortly as Dean pulled up in front of the small establishment. “Go on back to the motel. I’ll meet you there.”

Dean caught on and smirked. “Good luck,” he said as John got out of the car. He snickered when John shot him an annoyed look before disappearing into the bar. Shaking his head, Dean pulled out and headed for the motel.

A couple of hours later, Dean looked up from the laptop as his dad entered the motel room.  
“Well?” he asked, “Did you find somebody?”

“Of course I found somebody,” John said with a scowl. “There’s always somebody wanting to be found if you know where to look.”

“Thanks for that pearl of wisdom,” Dean deadpanned. “What I meant was, did it help?”

“I don’t know,” John said with a sigh. “So far, so good.” He frowned at Dean in concern. “I guess we should be glad whatever she got me with didn’t get you, too.”

Dean shrugged. “Unlike you and Sam, I’ve always been open and honest about my sex drive,” he said with a smirk. “Maybe I’m immune.”

John cocked an eyebrow. “When you’re raising two impressionable kids, it’s called being discrete.”

Dean snorted. “Well, whatever you want to call it, you …” He stopped talking as John cursed, his jaw clenching. “Again? Already?”

“I guess that answers your question,” John grated. “It didn’t help.”

Dean looked at him for a moment as he thought about their options. “I think we need to call Bobby,” he said.

“What?” John growled angrily. “No fucking way!” 

Dean rolled his eyes, knowing that John hated admitting he couldn’t handle something on his own, especially something concerning his own body. “Dad, you can’t keep this up.” John shot him a murderous look and Dean had to play it back in his head before he realized what he’d said. He snickered. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it that way, but I don’t know what else to suggest. Maybe Bobby knows of a counter-spell or something.”

John considered that for a moment. “Fine,” he finally growled, pulling out his phone and hitting Bobby’s number before putting it on speaker.

“Yeah,” Bobby answered gruffly.

“Hey,” John said, trying to stay composed. “I think we might need your help.”

“We? Is Dean with you?”

“Yeah,” John replied.

“Hey, Bobby,” Dean called out.

Bobby sighed into the phone. “That figures. The only idgit who can get himself into more trouble than you is that one. What did you get yourselves mixed up in this time?”

“I’ve been hit with a fucking sex curse,” John replied irritably.

There was silence on the other end of the line for a brief moment. “Then what the Hell are you callin’ _me_ for?” the older hunter exclaimed.

Dean laughed but tried to stifle it when John glared in his direction.

“Look, it’s not like I don’t know how these things work, but I’ve tried everything and it’s not getting any better,” John said. Reluctantly, he added, “In fact, it’s getting worse.”

“Worse how?” Bobby asked.

“At first it was just annoying and inconvenient but nothing I couldn’t take care of myself, if you catch my drift.” 

“I’m old, not dead,” Bobby grumbled. “Of course I catch your drift. So? What changed?”

John clenched his jaw. “After the first time I was good for a few hours, now I’m lucky if I can go ten minutes.”

Bobby sighed again. “I can’t believe I’m askin’ this, but … are you hard? Or just horny?” 

“One tends to lead to the other,” John growled.

“But bein’ horny for a few hours ain’t gonna permanently damage nothin’, ya idgit.”

John clenched his jaw, unable to believe he was asking Bobby for advice about hard-ons, of all things. “I know the dangers of priapism but this isn’t like that. It gets soft after I come, but it’s hard again so fast that a teenager would be jealous,” he hissed. 

Dean snickered again, the sound causing John to glare at him. 

“Any pain?” Bobby asked.

“Not at first,” John replied. “But now, the only time it doesn’t hurt is right after I blow my wad.”

“Thanks for the visual,” Bobby said gruffly. “Have you tried just going out and getting laid?”

“Do you think I would have called you if I hadn’t tried that?” John demanded in annoyance. “I picked up a woman in a bar for Christ’s sake.”

“And?” Bobby prodded.

“What, you want a fucking blow by blow?” John practically yelled into the phone. 

“Gimme that,” Dean said, taking the phone away from his dad. “Hey, Bobby, it’s me. What Dad’s trying to say is, it didn’t work.” He smirked a little, stepping out of arm’s reach as he added, “I mean, I guess _it_ worked fine, but an hour later he’s right back where he started.”

“Only worse,” John said, loud enough for Bobby to hear.

“How’d he get cursed in the first place?” Bobby asked irritably.

“We were working this case and there was a witch and her husband. They’d been killing young women for their youth and beauty. She didn’t exactly take kindly to us trying to stop her and, well, you know Dad.”

“He pissed ‘er off,” Bobby concluded.

Dean snorted. “We ganked ‘em both, but apparently that didn’t change anything.”

Bobby hummed thoughtfully. “Did she say anything specific?”

Dean watched his father go into the bathroom and close the door. “Uh, not really. She tried to convince us that love was worth any sacrifice, Dad told her it wasn’t love if they had to kill to keep it, she told him he didn’t know what love was. Seriously, Bobby, this chick was _big_ into the love thing. Her house is full of cupids and love gods and all that shit. But aside from that, she didn’t say anything that sounded like a spell or … an incantation or anything like that.”

“Contrary to popular belief, they don’t have to be said out loud,” Bobby informed him. “Did she touch him at all?”

Dean frowned. “She shook his hand when we left the first time, but that’s it.”

“That’s enough,” Bobby said with a sigh. “If she was particularly powerful, she could have hexed him with just a couple of his skin cells.” 

“So how do we undo it?” Dean asked. “Or does it have to run its course?”

“Depends,” Bobby said thoughtfully. “If I knew exactly how she cursed him, maybe I could find a spell to break it. Otherwise, it’ll probably wear off at some point, if it don’t kill ‘im first.”

Dean frowned, the situation suddenly more serious. “What, you mean like a heart attack or something?”

“I hadn’t thought of that,” Bobby admitted, “but I guess it’s a possibility. He ain’t as young as he used to be.”

“Then what did you mean?” Dean asked.

“There’s no way of knowin’ what she had in mind,” Bobby said, almost apologetically. “She might have intended for this to last the rest of his life, or for a certain period of time, or until a particular requirement is met. Sometimes those requirements have to be met within a certain time frame. Not makin’ that deadline could kill ‘im, not meetin’ the right requirement could kill ‘im. Without more information, I just don’t know what to tell ya, son.”

Dean glanced at John as he exited the bathroom. “So, how do these things work, usually? You said skin cells, so she’d make, what, like a hex bag?”

“That’s one method. Or she could have a shrine where she casts her spells. She can’t just twitch her nose and steal somebody’s youth. That kinda crap requires rituals and all that mumbo jumbo. Find out where she’s been performin’ them, you might find out what she had in mind for your daddy.”

“Awesome,” Dean breathed. “I’ll check into that. If I find anything, I’ll let you know.”

“I’ll look into what I’ve got here,” Bobby said, “see if I can find anything similar.”

“Thanks Bobby.” Dean disconnected the call and handed the phone back to his dad. “If she was using a shrine of some sort, chances are it’s in her house.”

“Let’s go,” John said grimly.

~~~

They let themselves into the house by picking a lock in the back. Once inside, they used flashlights to make their way through the dark rooms, unwilling to turn on any lights.

“Shrines are usually in the basement, right?” Dean asked.

John snorted. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

They made their way to the basement and found a wine cellar, a furnace room and a lot of storage but nothing that resembled what they were looking for. They were about to return to the upper level when Dean flashed his light from one side of the wine cellar to the other. “This isn’t right,” he mused.

John followed his gaze, adding his own beam of light to the situation. “You’re right. This room’s only half as wide as it should be.”

They followed the one wall until John found an odd looking bottle that didn’t seem to align with the others. Lifting it, he was surprised when the entire wall swung inward, revealing a hidden room. “Fucking witches,” he grumbled as he drew his gun.

Dean did the same and they cautiously made their way into the dark room. As soon as they determined there were no windows, Dean hit the light switch near the door.

“Holy crap,” he breathed. There were candles everywhere and Dean briefly thought about how long it must take to light them all. One wall was all shelves, each filled with a variety of jars and bottles, neatly labeled. At the other end of the room was what looked like an altar covered in black velvet. In the center stood a silver bowl and beside that, a worn, leather-bound book.

“Like I said,” Dean murmured. “Always in the basement.”

Stepping closer, John looked into the bowl to find it contained a few bones, a red feather, a coloured powder that he couldn’t identify and something that had him cursing under his breath.

“What is it?” Dean asked, stepping closer.

Not wanting to touch anything in the bowl, John took a knife out of his pocket and fished out the grainy photo.

“Fuck,” Dean said as he looked at the picture. Staring back at him was his father’s face. “This was from the first time we were here,” he said, his observation based on what John was wearing in the picture. He could see a bit of lawn and sidewalk so he knew it was probably taken on the Richard’s front porch.

“Yeah,” John said. “Probably a security camera.” He turned the picture over, taking note of the swirling script there. “And this is probably the spell.”

“Can you read it?” Dean asked.

“I can make out the letters, but it’s all in Latin. ‘Sexus’ probably speaks for itself,” he said grimly. “But I don’t recognize enough of the other words to put it in context.”

“We’ll send it to Bobby,” Dean suggested. When he didn’t get a response, he turned to look at his father. “Hey, you OK?” he asked, concerned. John was clenching his jaw hard enough to break something and sweat was breaking out on his forehead. 

“We need to get out of here,” John said, his voice tight.

“Oh,” Dean said, no longer finding his dad’s situation so amusing. “Yeah, OK.” He could tell the curse was taking a toll on John physically and he was suddenly aware that it really might kill him. Only the fact that they couldn’t risk leaving their DNA in the house stopped him from suggesting his dad find a secluded corner to take care of it.

“You should get out of the house,” Dean suggested. “I’ll take care of the security equipment and meet you at the car.”

“Can you make it back to the motel?” Dean asked, when he joined his dad at the car a short time later. “Or should we stop somewhere?”

“Motel,” John said shortly as he handed over the keys. “You drive.”

As soon as they got back to the motel, John locked himself in the bathroom. Dean heard the shower start a moment later and he pulled out his phone to call Bobby. “Hey,” he said once the older man answered.

“Find anything?” Bobby asked.

“Yeah,” Dean replied. “She had a picture of Dad from a security camera. There’s a bunch of Latin written on the back, but most of the words I don’t recognize.”

“Type it out and send it to me,” Bobby instructed. “Until I know exactly what it is, I don’t want you reading it out loud.”

“Good point,” Dean said, frowning at the words warily. “And, uh, I know I don’t have to say this, but the sooner the better, Bobby.”

“Is it getting worse?” the older man asked, concern bleeding through the gruff voice.

“Yeah, I think so,” Dean said, glancing at the bathroom door. “I’ll send this as soon as I type it out.”

With that, he disconnected the phone and headed straight for the laptop, carefully typing each word into an email and sending it to their friend.

He only hoped they weren’t already too late.

End of Part One


	2. Chapter 2

It seemed like an eternity before John reappeared from the bathroom but Dean knew it had only been half an hour because he’d been looking at his watch every few minutes.

“You OK?” he asked.

John nodded. “Yeah, just … give me a minute.”

“I sent the spell to Bobby,” Dean said, watching as John grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and downed it in one go. “He’ll translate it and get back to us ASAP.” His dad looked like he was on edge, not at all like someone who’d just beaten off in the shower. “Shower’s not cutting it, huh?”

John shook his head. “Not since the bar. It’s like, since I went from jerking off to actual sex, I can’t go back.”

“What about milking?” Dean asked, thinking back to the time in Ellicottville. 

“I tried that, too,” John admitted. “Magic apparently trumps physiology,” he said bitterly.

“Maybe you could hire someone?”

“You mean a hooker?” John asked, one eyebrow climbing.

Dean shrugged. “Desperate times.”

John snorted. “I’ve never had to pay for sex, I’m sure as Hell not gonna start now.”

Dean nodded. “Ok, what about something from the toy store? They’ve come a long way with shit like that. You don’t even have to buy the whole doll anymore, just the parts that…” He trailed off as he noticed the amused smirk on his father’s face. “What? I read.”

John snorted before shaking his head. “This isn’t my first rodeo. Last time I was hit with something like this, it could only be broken by a living, breathing human being.”

“You’ve been cursed before?” Dean asked, surprised. “When?”

“About fifteen years ago, dealing with a coven in Montana.”

“What happened?”

John shrugged. “Started off the same way, I guess, only not as intense. Just a constant craving for sex. I fucked every woman I could lure back to my room.” He smirked a little. “Not to brag, but back then it wasn’t exactly hard finding a willing partner.”

Dean rolled his eyes, but his lips twitched in amusement. “So? Did it work?”

John shook his head. “Apparently, the witch who cursed me was under the impression that all hunters were homophobes. I guess she figured I’d rather die than prove her wrong.”

Dean’s eyes widened slightly. He’d been with the occasional man over the years, but it was something he’d never considered admitting to his father, uncertain about how he’d react. “So what did you do?”

John shrugged again. “I went to a different bar and picked up a different partner for the night. Broke the curse the way that witch probably never thought I would.”

“So all you had to do was fuck a guy and that was the end of it?”

“Yeah,” John said with a smirk. “It wasn’t close to the hardship she probably wanted it to be.”

Dean chuckled. “Maybe the same thing would work this time,” he suggested. “A burg this size must have a few gay bars if you want to go trolling.”

John shifted his stance with a slight wince and Dean wasn’t sure if it was the current curse that was responsible, or the memory of the last one.

Before John had a chance to reply, Dean’s phone rang.

“Bobby,” he said, answering after he’d glanced at the caller ID. “Did you find anything?”

“Uh, yeah,” Bobby said, unusually hesitant. “I think I figured it out.”

Dean glanced at John. “Ok, let me put you on speaker.” He pressed a button on his cell. “Go ahead.”

“First, I need to know if there was anything else with the picture,” Bobby said.

Dean looked at John. “Yeah, there were some bones and a red feather…”

“And some sort of pink powder that I didn’t recognize,” John added.

“Damnit,” Bobby cursed. “I was afraid of that.”

“Afraid of what?” Dean asked.

Bobby sighed. “In order for this spell to be effective, she’d need the bones of a black cat…”

“Because that’s not too cliché at all,” Dean snorted.

“The feather from a rare, red Griffon,” Bobby continued, “the ground fin of a Goblin Shark, a picture of the person she was intending to curse and that person’s DNA.”

“There’s no way she had my DNA,” John insisted.

“Bobby said she could have gotten skin cells when she shook your hand,” Dean informed him.

“Fuck,” John muttered.

“The fact that she had all that stuff is bad, I take it,” Dean said into the phone.

“Well it ain’t good,” Bobby warned them. “Apparently, you have until the next full moon to break it. Until then, it’s just gonna keep getting’ worse.”

Dean frowned. “That’s only a little over a week. What happens then?”

“As it gets closer, the urges will get stronger. If you haven’t broken it by the night of the full moon, you’ll die. Cases like this, death is usually determined to be a heart attack or brain aneurysm or something.”

“So it’s not going to wear off,” John concluded, taking in what he was hearing.

“Uh, no,” Bobby said. “It ain’t that kinda curse. Seems she was intent on provin’ a point here,” he added grimly.

“What point?” Dean asked.

Bobby sighed. “You said she was big into the love thing.” He paused a moment. “Well, that’s it. The sex has got to be with someone he loves, not just a casual pickup.”

“What?!” John exclaimed. “What the Hell? It’s not likely I’m going to fall in love before the fucking full moon.”

“It wouldn’t matter if you did,” Bobby continued quietly. “It specifically states it has to be someone you already loved at the time she placed the curse.” He paused again. “My guess is, she truly thought you didn’t know what the whole concept meant.”

“That’s fucking crazy!” John exclaimed.

“Well, witches aren’t generally known for their sanity,” Bobby snarked. 

“But there’s got to be a counter-spell, right?” Dean asked. “Can we find it in time?”

“There’s no counter-spell, son,” Bobby said gently. “The cursed person’s DNA acts as a sort of metaphysical lock that just can’t be undone. He either breaks it or he dies, simple as that.”

“So we’re just supposed to stand by and watch him die?” Dean exclaimed incredulously. “Fuck that, Bobby!”

“John?” Bobby said uncertainly.

Dean turned to look at his dad, only to find his own horror mirrored there.

“No,” John finally said fiercely. “That is _not_ happening.”

“I know how you feel but …”

“But nothing,” John growled. “I said no, Bobby, and that’s final.”

“No, what?” Dean asked, staring at his father. Bobby’s words hit him like a Mack truck and his eyes widened slightly. “You mean me,” he breathed. 

“I don’t give a fuck what he means,” John said angrily. “That is _not_ an option, do I make myself clear?”

Dean stared at him for a moment before stepping into the bathroom with the phone and locking the door, ignoring John’s profanity-laced protests. Taking the phone off speaker, he held it to his ear and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath to calm his emotions. “Bobby,” he finally said, his voice not as steady as he would have liked, “it’s just me; Dad’s in the other room.” He paused a second. “Would that work? Could I break the curse?”

Bobby sighed. “Hell, son, I don’t know what ta say here. I’m guessin’ that ain’t the kinda love she meant, but, thankfully for us - or not - she didn’t specify. Believe me, I tried thinkin’ of another way out before I called you. I don’t like the idea any more than John does, but …”

Bobby obviously hadn’t heard the question Dean was asking, but it was probably just as well since Dean wasn’t sure he wanted the answer spelled out for him. It didn’t matter anyway. Sammy was hundreds of miles away and Dean was their best bet at the moment. “But that’s all we got,” he finally said firmly.

Bobby was silent for a moment. “God help me,” he breathed, “but yeah, I think it is.”

Dean nodded once, though he knew Bobby couldn’t see him. “Ok,” he said calmly. “What do I … is there anything else we need to know?”

“Plenty, I’m afraid,” Bobby said grimly. “This bitch did a real number on ‘im. Just one … time ain’t gonna cut it. The spell literally says he has to satisfy his every urge with someone he loves _until_ the next full moon. Did he do or say anything that pissed her off _before_ she shook his hand?”

Dean thought back. “He as much as promised her he’d get to the bottom of it, one way or another,” he said grimly.

“Damned Winchesters,” Bobby murmured. “She might have thought the curse would distract ‘im, keep ‘im off her back until she had a chance to get out of town.”

“She did seem surprised to see us the second time,” Dean mused thoughtfully.

“But whether she planned to kill him or just inconvenience him doesn’t make much difference now,” Bobby said, his tone grim.

Dean’s jaw clenched. “No, it doesn’t. Anything else we should know?”

“You ever dealt with one of these before?” Bobby asked.

“Not first hand.”

“This ain’t a matter of lowerin’ his inhibitions or makin’ him act on some secret desire or any of that shit. It’s an unnatural compulsion. He can try to fight it, but I’ve never known of anybody being able to resist it for long in the end. The harder he tries, the worse it’ll get for him; the pain will intensify and it’ll mess with his head. Once he gives in to the compulsion, he should be fine.” He paused briefly. “Until he starts to feel it buildin’ again and it starts all over.”

“Until the full moon,” Dean said, closing his eyes. “Then he should be Ok, right?”

“From what I can get from the spell she used, yeah. But you Winchesters are nothin’ if not stubborn. He’s gonna try to fight it and if it goes too far, it could kill ‘im, even before the full moon. Either that or he’ll go mad and really hurt somebody without even knowin’ it.” 

“I won’t let that happen,” Dean said with conviction.

“Dean,” Bobby said, the one word conveying a level of care and concern that had Dean swallowing a lump in his throat.

“It’s OK,” he said into the phone. “It’s just sex, no big deal.”

“But he’s your father,” Bobby pointed out needlessly. “I hate like Hell that you’re put in this position. Trust me, if I could think of somethin’ else…”

“I know,” Dean assured him, “but I won’t let him die, Bobby. Not over something like this.”

“Knowin’ your daddy, he’d probably rather,” Bobby said. “He’d never hurt you that way, you know that, right?”

“Yeah,” Dean said, swallowing again. “Yeah, I know. Thanks, Bobby.”

He disconnected the call and took a moment to gather his thoughts before opening the door, only to find his dad hastily stuffing things into his duffel. “What are you doing?”

John turned to face him and the pained expression in his eyes made Dean’s gut clench.

“I know what you’re thinking and it’s _not_ happening,” John rasped. 

“So, what, you’re just going to leave? What am I supposed to tell Sammy, huh? ‘Dad’s dead because he’d rather die than have sex with me’?”

“Don’t even _say_ that,” John fumed, his expression going from devastation to anger in the blink of an eye.

“Why? It’s true, isn’t it? You leave now, you die. You know it and I know it,” Dean pushed.

“You’re my _son_!” John hissed.

“And you’re my father,” Dean countered, “but how many times did I get off with your fingers in my ass back in Ellicottville?”

“That was different,” John growled.

“Why? Because you were helping me? You’re going to _die_ if we don’t do this. You might be OK with that, but I’m sure as Hell not. You did what you did back in Ellicottville because you were worried I’d get killed on a hunt if I didn’t get my head on straight. How is this any different?”

“You don’t understand,” John said, his voice belying the pleading look in his eyes. “This is a curse. Who knows how much worse it’ll get before we can break it, _if_ we can?”

“You don’t think I can handle it?” Dean asked, frowning. “Let me tell you, I can handle any fucking thing you can dish out better than I’ll ever handle knowing you’re dead and it’s all my fault!”

“This is _not_ your fault,” John hissed angrily. 

“Maybe not the curse,” Dean agreed, “but if there’s something I can do about it and I don’t, then _that’s_ on me, whether you like it or not!”

John raked a hand through his hair in obvious frustration. “Damnit, Dean! This doesn’t …” He gasped, doubling over, hands on his thighs while he tried to breathe through the pain coursing through him.

“Fuck this,” Dean muttered, hastily taking off his shirt. He tossed the flannel aside and pulled the t-shirt off over his head before reaching for his fly. Once he had the button undone and the zipper down, he sat on the edge of the bed to quickly unlace his boots. 

“Dean?” John questioned, his voice strained.

He looked over to where John was watching him with an odd expression on his face. There was confusion there, and pain, but what unnerved Dean more was the unfocused look in the brown eyes. He thought back to what Bobby had said and it was easy to see how this could lead to madness if it got any worse. “It’s Ok,” he said, trying to keep his voice calm and soothing. Finished with his boots, he pulled them off along with his socks and stood up. John was staring at his bare chest and Dean briefly wondered if he’d made things worse by undressing. “Dad? You still with me?”

John’s gaze rose to meet his and the expression on the older man’s face crumbled into one of regret and dismay. “Dean, I …”

Swallowing the last of his reservations, Dean slowly pushed his jeans and underwear down his legs until they pooled around his ankles. He stepped out of them and kicked them aside, his eyes never leaving his father’s. 

John was staring at him like he’d never seen him before and Dean wondered if he still recognized him. Thinking it might be better if he didn’t, Dean didn’t say anything, he just reached for his bag where it sat atop his bed and extracted a bottle of lube and a condom before throwing the bag to the floor out of the way.

He didn’t miss the way John winced slightly when he saw the bottle and it reassured him that his father wasn’t totally out of it. “It’s OK,” he said again before averting his gaze. He squeezed some of the lube onto his fingers and reached behind himself. He could practically feel the color rising to his cheeks and then bleeding down over his neck and chest but he ignored it as he hastily prepped himself. He would have preferred to do it in private, but he didn’t want to take the chance that John would panic and leave while he was in the bathroom. Knowing it probably wouldn’t be enough but that it was better than nothing, he willed himself to relax as he stretched himself with two and then three fingers, aware of John’s eyes on him the entire time even though he resisted meeting his gaze. When he’d finished, he wiped his hand on the corner of the bedspread, making sure the lube stayed in easy reach before he risked looking up at his dad.

It was obvious that John was waging a battle with himself, his eyes unable to leave Dean’s naked body, the veins standing out on his arms and neck as though he was physically forcing himself not to move. His skin was flushed and there were beads of perspiration on his forehead and upper lip but it was the wild look in the brown eyes that drove the urgency of the situation home. Dean slowly moved closer until he was within arm’s reach. John’s jaw clenched harder and the tremor that ran through his arms was testament to the tight hold he had on himself. In an attempt at reassurance, Dean reached out tentatively to touch his father’s shoulder, alarmed at the heat radiating off the older man. “Shit, you’re burning up,” he breathed. He wasn’t sure if it was his voice or his touch but John suddenly sprang to life, grabbing Dean’s shoulders and roughly turning him around before pushing him back toward the bed.

Dean swallowed hard, but followed his lead, crawling onto the bed on his hands and knees. He felt John’s hands on him immediately, touching his back, his hips, his ass. The fingers were unnaturally warm but the touches were insistent with no sign of hesitancy and Dean was glad for the quick prep, as mortifying as it had been.

John’s hands on his body suddenly stilled and Dean craned his neck to look back at where John stood at the end of the bed. He looked wrecked, his expression a mix of lust and horror, his eyes glassy, whether from fever or tears, Dean wasn’t sure. “Hey,” he said quietly, getting John’s attention. “It’s OK. You can do this.”

“Dean,” John breathed, his voice breaking.

Dean picked up the lube where he’d left it on the bed and handed it back to the other man. “Not quite as clinical as last time, huh?” he said, hoping his attempt at humor would get through and let his dad know that he was all right. “Mechanics are the same, though.”

John stared at him for a moment before taking the lube from Dean’s hand.

Dean turned back toward the headboard and closed his eyes, his head hanging between his shoulders. He heard the soft click of the bottle opening and then another as it was closed. A moment later, John’s hands were back, one on his left hip, the other on his ass. One slick finger trailed down the crease between his cheeks until it found the hidden pucker and pushed inside as though checking to see if Dean was ready. A second finger and then a third followed in quick succession and Dean had to bite his lip to stifle a gasp of surprise at the swift progression. The fingers withdrew suddenly and Dean heard the sound of the lube bottle being opened and closed once again and the sound of John’s zipper before feeling the blunt head of his dad’s cock pressing at his hole. He willed himself to relax, not knowing if John was still aware enough to have any sort of control. The pressure and burn increased as John began to push, and Dean couldn’t resist a gasp as the head finally popped through the tight ring of muscle.

John stilled immediately, the head of his cock resting just inside Dean’s ass, the hands on his hips trembling slightly. “Dean … oh God.”

Dean shook his head. “It’s OK,” he hissed from between clenched teeth, “just do it.”

John hesitated for a moment, no doubt trying to resist the need coursing through his body, but, in the end, the supernatural influence won out and he groaned, pushing in steadily until he was buried in Dean’s ass. 

Dean panted as he tried to adjust to the sudden fullness. Before he had a chance to fully do so, John was pulling out and pushing back in again. “Fuck,” he breathed.

John didn’t react to the quiet curse, already having lost himself in the arousal he’d been trying so hard to fight. Now that he’d started, there was just a primal need to keep going, to quench the fire burning in his gut. 

It didn’t take John long to set up a rhythm, but it wasn’t a gentle one. He pushed deep with every thrust, pulling out until just the head remained inside before pushing in harder and faster each time. Dean had to brace himself not to be slammed into the headboard with every stroke, gritting his teeth against the burn, the friction, the bruising grip of his dad’s fingers on his hips. 

“So fucking tight,” John growled as he slammed into the pliant body beneath him with a particularly hard thrust.

Dean winced a little, but clenched his jaw, refusing to make a sound. As John continued to rut, Dean rode it out, breathing heavily with the effort of holding himself in place as the cock pounded into his ass. After a few minutes, John began to thrust even faster and harder, cursing under his breath before pushing in as far as he could and holding there, his hips grinding against Dean’s ass while he pumped his release into the younger man’s body.

Dean took a moment to catch his breath once it was over. He could still feel the cock in his ass, but it was softening, much to his relief. The fingers that had been digging into his hips relaxed and John’s harsh pants slowed gradually until his breathing evened out.

It was at that moment that John gasped. “Oh my God,” he practically sobbed. He pulled out and moved away from the bed, staring in horror at the evidence of what he’d done.

Dean turned and sat up, wincing a little at the squishy feel of come leaking from his ass. He glanced at the condom, still where he’d left it, and shook his head a little. “Dad, don’t,” he said wearily.

“I’m sorry,” John choked out. “Oh, God, Dean.”

Energized partly by anger, partly by fear, Dean got to his feet and moved toward his father, stopping only when John flinched from him. Picking up his discarded jeans, he hastily pulled them on. “You have nothing to apologize for,” Dean insisted. “I knew what I was doing when I started this.”

John looked at him incredulously. “Damnit, Dean, why?”

“You would have died!” Dean exclaimed as though maybe John had forgotten that. Swallowing hard, he calmed his voice. “And I … I don’t want to lose you,” he added quietly. “I can’t.”

John let out a bark of hysterical laughter. “Lose me? I should be eating a fucking _bullet_ for what I just did!”

“No!” Dean exclaimed, grabbing his father’s arm. “You don’t even get to _think_ shit like that after what just happened. What’s done is done and if you decide to check out now, I swear to God that I’ll spend the rest of my life believing that every single, ugly thought running through your head right now is true.”

John looked devastated and Dean felt a modicum of relief that his words had registered. 

“This was _my_ choice and the reasons don’t change that,” Dean continued. “We can get through this, but if you bail on me now, because of some sense of guilt or whatever the fuck, then what we did was for nothing and that bitch and her crazy-ass husband win.”

John’s jaw clenched and there was a clarity in his eyes that Dean hadn’t seen since before he’d decided to take matters into his own hands. 

“Now, I’m going to take a shower,” Dean said, as though talking to a skittish child. “Promise me you’ll be here when I get out.” He tried to hide the desperation in his voice, but something in his dad’s expression told him he hadn’t been entirely successful. “I mean it, Dad, _promise_ me.”

“I…” John cleared his throat, running a hand through his hair before meeting Dean’s gaze. “I promise,” he said quietly but with conviction.

Dean nodded once, taking a moment to study his dad’s eyes for any sign of deception before he made his way into the bathroom and closed the door.

~~~

It was a quicker shower than he would have liked. Standing under the hot spray felt good and he would have loved a chance to linger there for a while, but he knew that wasn’t an option. There was no way he was leaving his father alone any longer than necessary. Quickly drying himself off and wrapping the towel around his waist, he grabbed his jeans and opened the door.

John had been sitting on the end of the unused bed, his head in his hands when Dean reappeared in a cloud of steam. Getting to his feet, he looked at the younger man, his throat closing on all that he’d planned to say. After a moment, he got the most important words out. “I’m an asshole for not asking this right away, but, are you okay?”

Dean met his gaze head on. “You weren’t exactly thinking clearly after that,” he said, excusing John’s lack of concern. He studied John’s face and was relieved to see that, while he looked far from happy, there was no sign of the curse still lingering there. “But yeah, I’m fine.”

They both knew Dean said that, even if he wasn’t, and John gave him a pointed look that told him so.

Dean rolled his eyes and grabbed a pair of boxers and a clean pair of jeans from his bag. “Really. How’d you put it? Not my first rodeo.” He pulled both the underwear and jeans on quickly, then pulled out a clean t-shirt, only turning to face his dad again once he was dressed. “Though I usually use a condom.”

“I know,” John said with a grimace, “but I couldn’t stop it once I …” John didn’t bother to finish the thought, knowing it would sound like an excuse, even to his own ears. “I’m clean, though, I swear.” He waited for Dean to nod in acceptance of that before asking the only question that really mattered. “Did I hurt you?”

“Physically? No.” Dean said, his green eyes flashing with a combination of anger and pain. “But I’ll tell you what really pissed me off and that was you talking about eating a bullet _after_ the fact. I did the only thing I could to try and save your life and you threw it back in my face like it meant _nothing_.” He knew he sounded like an emotional chick and the thought briefly flashed through his mind that Sammy would be proud.

“That’s not true,” John said, his voice cracking. “It means _everything_ , I just …”

“Don’t think your life’s worth it?” Dean asked incredulously. “Well news flash, Dad. It is, to me. And don’t even try to say you wouldn’t do the same for me or Sammy because we both know that’s bullshit.”

John opened his mouth but nothing came out, knowing to deny it would be a lie.

Dean’s stance softened and he stepped closer to the other man. “Dad, I know, Ok? Believe me, when I think of the things I would do for this family, for you or Sammy, it scares me sometimes. But this? This doesn’t even make the list of things that would keep me up at night.”

John searched the green eyes for a long moment before pulling Dean into a hug. “Jesus, Dean,” he whispered hoarsely. 

Dean closed his eyes as he returned the hug. “I swear, I’m OK.”

John took a deep breath and nodded once before reluctantly ending the hug and taking a step back. “I know I don’t say it often enough, but I’m proud of you, son. Always have been.”

Dean nodded once, trying to act like the uncustomary praise was no big deal, but there was a lump forming in his throat and he had to swallow once before he could speak. “So, what now?”

John ran a hand through his hair. “The case is done so we should probably blow this burg, then … I was thinking we could look for another hunt. I swear to God, Dean, I feel like it’s gone. I know what Bobby said, but maybe he was wrong.”

Dean looked at his father skeptically. “How often is Bobby wrong about shit like this?”

John sighed. “I know, I just …”

“You just _want_ it to be gone, I get it. And I don’t blame you,” Dean said. “It’s called a curse for a reason. But if Bobby’s right, you can’t take the chance of it screwing with your head while we’re on a hunt.”

John looked somewhat offended. “I know that. I’m not about to walk into a vampire nest or something if there’s a chance I’m compromised, but if we find a case, I could still research, talk to people.”

Dean nodded. “Great. Then, I guess we’re outta here.”

John glanced uncomfortably at the laptop. “First you should know, Bobby sent an email.”

“OK,” Dean said warily. “What did it say?”

“Nothing new on the curse itself, more like tips on how to handle it,” John said, a slight tinge of bitterness to his voice.

"What kind of tips?” Dean asked, frowning.

John ran a hand through his hair, then winced a little. “He stressed that, the more I try to fight it, the more it’ll fuck with my head.” He paused briefly, then added in a dark tone, “Which would explain the way I …” He waved his hand toward the rumpled bed in lieu of finishing the thought aloud. After a heavy sigh, he added, “If it happens again, I don’t want… I want to be in control of what I’m doing.”

Dean wasn’t sure what that would entail, exactly, but he could certainly understand his father’s desire to have control over his own actions. “Yeah, I get that, I guess.”

“And I mean _if_ it happens again,” John reiterated. “This probably wasn’t the scenario she had in mind and that might’ve changed everything.”

“Did Bobby say that was a possibility?” Dean asked.

John looked away before shaking his head and returning his gaze to meet Dean’s. “No,” he finally said quietly, “but he didn’t say it wasn’t.”

Dean let that register before nodding once. “OK.” There really wasn’t anything else to say and they both began packing their things in silence.

They hit the road and drove for nearly an hour with nothing but the stereo to fill the silence before John turned the music down and cleared his throat. “I know it’s not really any of my business,” he said, “but I have to ask. Was it …”

“Good for me?” Dean asked with a smirk when the other man paused.

“What?!” John exclaimed, looking at Dean in shock and swerving a little before regaining control of the wheel. “Damnit, Dean, that’s not what I meant and you know it. I think I have a right to know if that was the first time.”

Dean’s eyebrow climbed slightly. “Seriously?” He saw his dad’s jaw clench but the other man kept his eyes on the road. A lot of the talking between them took place in the car. Whatever the topic, it always seemed like less of a chick-flick moment if you didn’t actually have to look the other person in the eye. With a small sigh, he followed his father’s lead and looked out at the road ahead of them. “I’ve been with a few guys,” he said, shrugging. “I prefer girls but sometimes it’s not about attraction so much as just … being able to let go, I guess.”

John was nodding. “Yeah, I get that.”

Dean felt relieved, even though he hadn’t really expected a bad reaction after John’s earlier admission. 

“Do you usually …” John trailed off as he thought of how to word his question.

“Approach things from the receiving end?” Dean asked a little more sharply than he’d intended. He really didn’t have a problem talking about sex but something about his father asking was pissing him off and he wasn’t even sure why. He shook his head. “No, not usually. I tried it once but it really didn’t do anything for me.” 

“And what happened back there sure as Hell didn’t change that,” John said bitterly.

Dean frowned a little as he glanced at his father. “But that wasn’t about me,” he said.

John was shaking his head. He hated that he’d had so little control over what had happened. Dean had sacrificed a part of himself and John had treated him no better than a nameless fuck he picked up on a street corner. “It shouldn’t have happened,” he managed in a broken whisper. “I should have …”

“Called Sam?” Dean asked quietly.

“What?” John looked over at him in shock. “Is that why you’re so pissed? Because you wish I’d called Sam instead?”

Dean felt his eyes filling with tears and that only made him angrier. “What I wish is that you were never cursed in the first place! But you were and I’m not sure I’m enough to break it, OK?!”

The car swerved onto the shoulder and came to a stop so fast that Dean had to brace himself with a hand on the dashboard. “Jesus!”

John was out of the car and around to the passenger side in lighting speed, yanking open the door and undoing Dean’s seatbelt before roughly pulling him out by one arm. Before Dean had a chance to protest, John had both hands fisted in Dean’s collar and was pinning him against the rear passenger door.

“What the fuck?” Dean asked, still shocked at the turn of events. Given John’s stance, he braced himself for a punch but when he looked into his dad’s eyes, it was anguish he saw, not anger.

“Do you honestly think,” John asked, his voice trembling, “that I don’t _love_ you enough?”

Dean swallowed. Put like that, it sounded stupid, like he was looking for some sort of praise he hadn’t yet earned. “No, I …” He swallowed again. “I know, OK? I’m sorry.”

“But you think I love Sam more,” John said, his voice dull.

“I’m not blaming you,” Dean said hoarsely. “Sam’s the baby, the smart one and he’s…” He bit his lip to stop himself from saying it out loud.

“He’s what?” John asked. Shaking Dean a little, he pressed. “He’s _what_ , Dean?”

A single tear rolled down his cheek and Dean wanted to shoot himself for letting his dad see it. “He’s the last thing you got to share with Mom,” Dean whispered almost inaudibly. As soon as he saw the shattered look in John’s eyes, he knew he’d made a mistake in bringing up Mary. “I’m sorry,” he gasped.

Instead of replying verbally, John surprised him by pulling him into a hug. “Jesus, Dean,” he breathed raggedly. He released his hold but kept his hands on Dean’s shoulders as he stepped back enough to look into his son’s eyes. “I love you every bit as much as I love Sam and if you didn’t know that, then I’m the one who’s sorry. Sam may have been the baby, but you were our first. We could have had ten kids and none of them would have been able to take your place, do you hear me?”

Dean didn’t think he could speak if he wanted to so he only nodded.

John took a few steps back to put some space between them, putting his hands in his jacket pockets and looking off to one side as though he found the scenery fascinating. Dean wasn’t sure if he was trying to compose himself or giving Dean time to do the same but he suspected it was a little of both. 

After a few minutes, John looked at him again, cocking his head slightly to one side as he studied the younger man’s features before trying for a reassuring smile. “This probably counts as the mother of all chick-flick moments, huh?” he said, using the term Dean had coined for anything even resembling emotion.

Dean huffed a small, relieved laugh. “Just don’t tell Sam; I’d never hear the end of it.”

John chuckled. “Yeah, I remember. What happens in …” He looked around. “Whereeverthefuck stays in Whereeverthefuck.”

Dean, too, glanced around to take in their surroundings. “Think Whereverthefuck can make a decent cheeseburger?” he asked, his voice slightly more tremulous than he would have liked.

John clapped him on the shoulder and gently pushed him toward the open passenger door with a grin. “I guess we’re going to find out.”

End of Part Two


	3. Chapter 3

They stopped at a small diner and limited the conversation to hunts and possible cases rather than anything to do with the curse or the hornet’s nest of emotions it had triggered. Dean was enjoying a piece of pie after a surprisingly good cheeseburger when he noticed his Dad seemed to be glaring at the laptop. “Find something?” he asked.

John looked up as though he’d forgotten he wasn’t alone. “What?”

Dean nodded at the laptop. “If looks could kill and all that. What did you find?”

John glanced back at the laptop and blinked once before shaking his head slightly. “Nothing really. I just…” His jaw clenched and he shook his head again.

Dean looked at him for a minute. “It’s back.”

John looked like he was about to deny it when he changed his mind and nodded abruptly.

Dean glanced around before looking back at his father. “We could hit the can if you want,” he suggested uncertainly.

Looking up with an expression of distaste, John shook his head. “What I want is to get the Hell out of here.”

Dean nodded and wiped his mouth as John pulled out a few bills and left them on the table. Once outside, Dean asked, “Want me to drive? Find a motel?”

“I can drive,” John assured him. “It’s not as bad as before, I was just … hoping that would be the end of it.”

Dean had hoped so, too, for his father’s sake, but he hadn’t really believed it. Without a word, he made his way around to the passenger side of the car and got in.

As was often the case, there was a motel fairly close to the diner and John pulled in without giving it a second thought. He sat behind the steering wheel, trying, in vain, to think about anything that might ease his growing hard-on while Dean went in to get them a room.

“Fourteen,” Dean said as he got back into the car and nodded toward the row of doors. 

John parked in front of the designated room and turned off the engine, resigning himself to the fact that there was nothing he could do but see it through just as Bobby had suggested. Taking a deep breath, he took a minute to calm the turmoil in his head if not his dick before he got out of the car. Since Dean had already grabbed his bag and was opening the door, there was nothing else for John to do except grab his own things and follow the younger man inside.

Dean dropped his bag on the floor and turned to face his dad, wiping his palms on the front of his jeans. Gesturing toward the bathroom, he said, “I’m just going to … get everything ready.” Wincing inwardly at how stupid that sounded, he discreetly grabbed a tube of lube from his bag and disappeared into the smaller room.

Once alone, he lowered his jeans and squeezed a liberal amount of lube onto his fingers. With a little more care than last time but still mindful of the fact that time was of the essence, he quickly lubed himself. He was a little sore from the previous time but it wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle. When he was ready, he wiped his hands on a towel and then deliberated whether or not to undress. He didn’t think his dad would care one way or the other so while he removed his shirts, he didn’t go as far as taking off his jeans or boxers, merely pulling them back up. 

When he came out of the bathroom, John stopped the pacing he’d been doing to look at him, opening his mouth as though he were going to say something but then closing it again without a word. Dean could see that his dad’s eyes didn’t look entirely focused but it wasn’t as bad as it had been the time before. Rather than climb onto the bed, he stood at the foot, lowering his jeans and boxers and then bending over, placing his hands on the faded bedspread and bracing himself with his arms. He closed his eyes when he heard the now-familiar sounds of the lube bottle and John’s zipper. Seconds later, John’s hands were on him, caressing his ass before one finger made its way between his cheeks. He held his breath as he was breached, hoping that the prep he’d done would be enough if John decided to forgo anything additional. To his surprise, John’s initial touches were gentler than the last time, one finger stroking slowly in and out a few times before adding a second and then a third. He felt his cock twitch as John pressed on his prostate and he briefly wondered if it would be better or worse if he got off in the process.

“That bitch might be able to force me to do this,” John said tightly. “But there’s nothing saying I can’t make it as easy on you as possible.”

Dean wasn’t sure how he felt about that but as John continued to massage his prostate, he decided that it didn’t matter. He indulged in losing himself in the sensations for a few moments before John withdrew his fingers and lined his cock up at the prepared hole. “I’m going to try to go slow,” he said, obviously fighting for control.

Dean nodded and held his breath as John began to push inside.

“Fuck,” John hissed, through clenched teeth. “I don’t think I …” Without anything further, he buried himself to the hilt in one strong push, eliciting a gasp from the man beneath him. “God, Dean, are you OK?” he breathed.

Dean nodded once. “Yeah, just … go ahead.”

Needing no further incentive, John began to fuck him, trying to go slowly at first but losing the battle as the desire consumed him. Before long, he was pounding Dean’s ass hard enough that Dean had to go down on his forearms to brace himself.

“Yeah,” John said, appreciating the depth he got with the new position. “So good.” He continued fucking into the tight ass, increasing the speed of his thrusts until he was emptying himself with a low groan. After a minute, he pulled out, stumbling back a few steps. “Jesus, fucking _Christ_ ,” he exclaimed in frustration. “That wasn’t … I didn’t want …” He took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair. “Are you OK?”

Dean nodded as he straightened, pulling up his boxers and jeans and fastening them. “Yeah, I’m good,” he said. He hesitated a minute before he turned around, not wanting to see the look of devastation he was expecting to see on John’s face. Thankfully, his dad looked more angry and frustrated than suicidal. “You?”

John grimaced. “Yeah, physically,” he said, “but I’m…. fuck, I hate this.”

“It’s only a few more days,” Dean reminded him, “and we’ve sure as Hell been through worse.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” John grated.

Dean nodded once as though to himself. “I’m gonna hit the shower.”

As soon as John heard the shower running, he pulled out his phone and hit Bobby’s number.

“Yeah,” Bobby answered in a tone much quieter than usual.

“Bobby, I …” John began before he even thought about what he was going to say. “This isn’t working,” he said, his voice cracking. 

“Aww, Hell,” Bobby said. “Did you …”

“The fact that you’re even asking me that makes me want to puke,” John spat. 

Bobby sighed. “The idea ain’t settin’ too good with me either,” he said truthfully, “but it’s still better than the alternative.”

“Not for Dean,” John said bitterly. 

“You know that ain’t true,” Bobby said in a no-nonsense tone. “And if you don’t then you don’t know that boy of yours at all.”

John glanced at the bathroom door. “I’m hurting him, Bobby,” he said, his voice catching on the words. 

“Physically?” 

John closed his eyes against the accusation in Bobby’s voice. “No, I don’t think so but I can’t control it and it’s just so … cold and impersonal that I feel like shit after. He doesn’t deserve that.”

“No,” Bobby agreed quietly, “but he don’t deserve to lose the only parent he’s got left, either.”

John sighed. “So, what do I do?”

Bobby thought about it for a minute. “At the risk of getting my ass kicked next time I see you, is cold and impersonal your usual MO?”

“My usual MO doesn’t include practically raping my own flesh and blood,” John growled into the phone.

Bobby sighed. “That right there could be your problem. You’re still fightin’ the bit and while I can sure as Hell understand it, it’s not exactly fulfilling the requirements of the curse, is it?”

“What do you mean?” John demanded. “I _fucked_ him, Bobby. What more can I do to fulfill the fucking requirements?”

“If that’s what it was about, you could have left Dean out of it altogether,” Bobby grated. “The curse is about love so if you’re approaching it with hate, even though it’s directed at you and not him, that just ain’t gonna cut it, Einstein.”

John winced as Bobby’s words sank in. “I’m just making it worse,” he finally said.

“Believe me, I can understand the self-loathing,” Bobby assured him, “but if you don’t break this curse and you end up dyin’ anyway, all of this is for nothin’. How’s Dean gonna feel then?”

John sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. “He…He asked me if I wished Sam had been available instead.”

Dean’s earlier question came back to Bobby with haunting clarity. _Could I break the curse?_ At the time, he’d thought him to be asking if it mattered that it was a different type of love but John’s words made him realize that hadn’t been the real question at all. Dean had been asking if it was enough, if _he_ was enough. It made him want to kick the boy’s ass and hug him in equal measure. “Yeah, that sounds like Dean,” he finally said unhappily. “What did you tell ‘im?”

“The truth,” John replied. “I don’t love either of them more than the other; they’re my _sons_ , Bobby.”

“I know,” Bobby said, pleased to hear it though he already knew it to be true, “but Dean’s always had a rather low opinion of himself compared to what he thinks of you and Sam.”

“Yeah,” John breathed sadly. “Truth is, he’s a better man than I ever was.”

“Can’t argue that,” Bobby teased.

John smiled for the first time since the diner. “Yeah, but you’re biased, old man.”

“I’m allowed to play favorites.” Bobby paused a moment. “But you know I love them both like they were my own,” he added seriously.

“Yeah, I know,” John said softly, glancing once more at the bathroom door as he heard the shower stop. “Bobby, if this doesn’t work…”

The silence stretched between them for a moment, heavy with the words John didn’t need to say.

“I’ll always do right by them, John,” Bobby said sincerely. “You got my word on that.”

John looked up as Dean came out of the bathroom. “Thanks, Bobby. Gotta go.”

“More tips?” Dean asked wryly once John had disconnected the call.

John nodded thoughtfully. “You could say that, yeah.”

Dean finished toweling his hair and hung the towel over the back of one of the chairs. He wasn’t sure if his father planned on elaborating but he was afraid to ask. It only took a minute before John took the decision out of his hands.

“I don’t think this is working,” John said quietly.

Dean tensed, his jaw clenching. He’d been afraid of that from the beginning and John had as much as told him he had nothing to worry about. Apparently, Bobby knew better. He was so lost in his own thoughts that he wasn’t really listening to anything else John was saying.

“… not you.”

Dean turned to him with a frown. “Huh?”

John cocked an eyebrow at him. “I said, this isn’t working but that’s on me, not you.”

“What does that even mean?” Dean asked.

John sighed and gestured toward the table. “Sit down. We need to talk.”

“Why? I mean, we already know all we need to know, right? You do what you need to do, and come the full moon you’ll either be cured or …” He shrugged, looking away. “Whatever.”

John knew Dean well enough to know that was what was bothering him, the possibility that he wouldn’t be able to break the curse. He also knew that Dean _would_ blame himself in that event, regardless of anything John said. There was no way in Hell he wanted that to happen if he could help it. “Bobby pointed out that I haven’t exactly been doing what the curse requires.”

Dean snorted. “Yeah, well, I can call him back if you want. Tell him you’re holding up your end.”

“Dean, stop it,” John said firmly. 

He opened his mouth to argue, but Dean changed his mind, shaking his head wearily instead. “Yeah, all right.” He lowered himself into one of the chairs and looked up at his dad with what was obviously a fake smile. “Let’s talk.”

It wasn’t the opening John wanted, but he’d take what he could get. “Look,” he said, taking the other chair. “Last time this happened, it was barely an inconvenience, but the specifics of this curse are going to make it really hard to break.” He paused briefly. “But I’m trying.”

Dean frowned. “OK.”

John shook his head. “You know that I have no control over it but what you don’t know is, there’s a small part of me that knows what I’m doing and I hate myself for not being able to stop it.”

“It’s not your fault,” Dean assured him. “I know that, OK?”

“I know you do,” John said with a sad smile, “but what Bobby pointed out is, it doesn’t matter who that hate is directed at …”

“It’s still the opposite of what the spell said,” Dean said, realization dawning.

“Yeah,” John said with a sigh.

Dean frowned. “So what’s the big deal? Now that you know, you can just cut that shit out, right?”

“That’s easier said than done,” John pointed out in frustration. “You can hardly wait to get away from me afterward. I never wanted you to be afraid of me, Dean.”

One eyebrow climbed towards Dean’s hairline and John allowed a wry smile as he realized what he’d just said. “Yeah, OK, I may have used scare tactics in the past but that was to keep you and your brother safe, not to hurt you. You know that, right?”

“Yeah, I know,” Dean said with a sigh. “And I know you hate this, which is why I try to give you some space after. The sex doesn’t bother me and I know it probably should, but it’s just one more thing we have to do to keep fighting the good fight, you know? Doing what we do, curses are gonna happen and all that matters is that we get through them.” He paused a second. “No matter what it takes.”

John gave those words a chance to settle before he shook his head with a weary chuckle. “This is one fucked-up conversation.”

Dean shrugged. “It’s a fucked-up life, but it’s ours. If you’re expecting me to be crying in the shower each time, I’m sorry to disappoint you, but that’s just not me. It’s not _us_. We do what we need to do, just like we always have, just like we will long after the fucking full moon.”

John frowned a little. “This was supposed to be _me_ making _you_ feel better, not the other way around.”

Dean snorted. “Yeah, well, you’re the one acting like a big girl. I guess Sammy comes by it naturally.”

John smiled at him fondly. “Yeah, I guess he does.”

He didn’t know if it was the feeling of affection that triggered it, but the words were barely out of his mouth before the unnatural burning started low in his gut. “Christ,” he breathed.

Dean was about to ask what was wrong when he realized he didn’t have to. “Hey,” he said softly, getting his dad’s attention. “We can handle this.”

John looked at him with a hint of panic for a moment before he nodded once. “Right.”

Dean slowly got to his feet and pulled his dad with him. “Just go with it, OK? Remember what Bobby said, fighting it will only make it worse.” He paused a moment before adding, “For both of us.”

John searched the green eyes. “Go with it,” he repeated in a voice already roughened by the compulsion trying to take him over.

“Yeah,” Dean agreed with a slight nod, “just –”

His words were cut off as John captured his lips in a deep kiss that could have blown the word ‘unexpected’ out of every dictionary known to man. It took Dean a moment to get over the initial shock before he tentatively tried returning it, buoyed by the way John moaned into the kiss.

John dragged his lips from Dean’s and stared at him in a mixture of confusion and blatant need. “Dean, I don’t … I can’t…”

“You don’t have to,” Dean said, understanding what his dad was trying to say. “It’s OK, I swear. You don’t have to fight it.”

The words seemed to trigger something and John was suddenly moving them toward the bed, hungrily devouring Dean’s mouth in a series of fevered kisses that had them both breathless by the time they made it across the room. Once the back of Dean’s legs touched the mattress, John stopped, stepping back only far enough to pull Dean’s t-shirt off over his head before John’s mouth was back, kissing and biting along Dean’s jawline toward his neck.

“Fuck,” Dean breathed, his own self-control no match for the other man’s onslaught. He tugged at the flannel shirt John wore, getting it off the broad shoulders before pulling it down his arms and off. The second his arms were free, John’s hands were working at Dean’s fly, pulling the zipper down and reaching inside to grasp the half-hard cock waiting there. Dean gasped at the sensation of John’s warm hand on his dick and that seemed to break the spell for only a second as John pulled back to look into the green eyes. Dean bit his lip, hoping his dad wasn’t going to change his mind. “Please,” he whispered.

That one word was John’s undoing and he cradled Dean’s face in his hands, searching his features as though seeing them for the first time before slowly taking his lips in a long, deep kiss. He could feel Dean’s hands clutching at his shoulders and it spurred him on, reluctantly ending the kiss to lower Dean’s jeans and boxers to the floor. Once Dean stepped out of them and kicked them aside, John lowered him to the bed, following him down to blanket the smaller body with his own. They traded kisses and low moans for a few minutes before John got to his feet at the end of the bed. Not once taking his eyes from Dean’s, he pulled off his t-shirt, jeans and boxers in a manner that wasn’t hurried but still spoke of a sensual urgency.

Dean swallowed as he watched John’s hard cock bob free of its confines before allowing his gaze to trail back up the hard chest until it met the brown eyes watching him. He moved to roll over, only to be stopped by John’s hand on his hip. “No,” John rasped, his expression almost pleading. “I want … I need to know I’m not hurting you,” he whispered hoarsely.

Dean nodded once and laid back, bringing his knees up and allowing them to fall apart, his cock hardening with every caress of his dad’s gaze over his skin. He watched as John picked up the bottle of lube he’d discarded earlier and coated his fingers with it. Brown eyes met green for a moment before John focused his attention on one finger as it slowly pushed into Dean’s hole. He stroked in and out a few times, taking note of the breathy gasps escaping Dean’s lips before adding a second finger and slowly stretching him open. Dean was working his bottom lip between his teeth and John was mesmerized by the sight, adding a third finger after a few minutes without conscious thought. 

Dean’s back arched and he let out a quiet moan when John began working on his prostate. He continued the ministrations for a few minutes, encouraged by the way Dean was writhing beneath him before he slowly withdrew his fingers and reached for the bottle of lube to coat his cock. Placing his left hand on Dean’s knee, he used the right to guide his cock to the prepared entrance, gritting his teeth as he slowly pushed the head past the ring of muscle. He tried to give Dean time to adjust but he was fast losing control and he didn’t want this to be another mindless fuck. “Dean, I need to …”

“Yeah,” Dean breathed, nodding once. “Yeah, go ahead.”

John pushed slowly in until he was buried, his balls brushing Dean’s ass. “Christ,” he growled. Pulling back out, he pushed in again a little harder, twisting his hips and eliciting a surprised gasp from Dean as his prostate was stroked. “You like that?” John said, doing it again. 

“Fuck yeah,” Dean panted, lifting his hips to meet John’s downstroke and moaning at the result. From there, they set up an easy rhythm, John going deep with every thrust, stimulating Dean’s prostate and sending them both to new heights of arousal. Grabbing Dean’s knees, John folded him nearly in half and began thrusting harder, groaning as he reached new depths inside the willing body beneath him. When Dean reached for his cock, John brushed his hand away, grasping it and stroking in time with his thrusts. 

“You going to come this time?” he urged, his tone breathless with the exertion. “Come on, Dean. Come for me.”

Dean wasn’t sure if it was the words or the combined sensations of John’s hand on his dick and the cock in his ass, but he found himself barreling toward the edge, soaring over with a cry that was part release, part surprise.

John continued to fuck him through it, mesmerized by the sight of Dean caught in the throes of his orgasm. He hadn’t realized he was so close, but the combination of the tight heat of Dean’s body and the look of unadulterated bliss on his face was enough to push him over the edge with a strangled moan.

They both struggled to catch their breath for a moment before John pulled out and collapsed on the bed beside the other man.

“Fuck,” Dean breathed, still trying to regulate his breathing. 

John stared at the ceiling while he caught his breath, then turned to face Dean uncertainly. “That was … surprising.”

Dean snickered. “Surprising? Really? That’s all you got?” He got the desired result when John chuckled and seemed to relax.

Dean turned to look at him. “I guess Bobby was right,” he said quietly.

John grinned. “Don’t tell him that. We’ll never hear the end of it.”

After a quick shower, Dean took time to lube himself, not knowing what the next few hours might have in store, before leaving the bathroom to find John dressed and sitting at the table with the laptop.

“I’m going to catch a few hours of sleep,” Dean said, heading for the unused bed. “Wake me if you need anything.”

“I’m good,” John said as he watched Dean climb into the bed and close his eyes.

With any luck, the curse had been satisfied enough that he wouldn’t need to disturb Dean’s rest.

End of Part Three


	4. Chapter 4

When Dean awoke, he was surprised to find he’d slept for nearly six hours. Pushing himself up on one elbow, he looked around the room, warning bells starting to go off as he became aware that John wasn’t there. He sat up and was about to get dressed when he saw the note on the nightstand, a small white tube on top of it.

Picking up both, he read the note and smirked before putting down the tube and picking up the pen. He wrote his own note, put the tube and the pen on top and headed into the bathroom to shower and brush his teeth.

When John returned to the room a few minutes later with breakfast, he heard the shower running and glanced at the spot where he’d left the note, hoping Dean had seen it and hadn’t thought he’d bailed. Putting the food and coffee down in the small kitchenette, he went over to pick up the note, pleased to learn that not only had Dean seen it, he’d added to it.

Under the words John had scrawled earlier that read _‘I thought you might be needing this’_ , Dean had written _‘thinking kinda highly of yourself, huh?’_. John smirked as he picked up the tube of lidocaine cream and put it back in his bag. 

When Dean emerged from the bathroom a short time later, his eyes immediately tracked to the table where the aroma of coffee was obviously coming from. Shaking his head in amusement, John asked him how he’d slept.

“Good,” Dean said truthfully. He looked at John for a minute. “Did you get any sleep?”

“Enough,” John said with a nod as he moved toward the table and the food waiting there.

They talked while they ate, John filling him in on what little he’d been able to find on the laptop in way of hunts and Dean making the appropriate comments about what could be a case and what likely wasn’t. 

As they talked, Dean noticed that John seemed to be getting increasingly agitated. “Dad?” he finally prodded when it became clear that something was wrong.

“It’s nothing,” John said, shaking his head and bringing his coffee cup to his lips to hide the clenching of his jaw.

“It’s obviously not nothing,” Dean said after a minute. “Why are you …”

“Fucking leave it alone, will you?” John growled. He balled his hands into fists, trying to reign in the sudden anger.

Dean’s own anger was starting to surface. “I thought we were done with this shit,” he snapped.

John shook his head abruptly. “This is…” He swallowed once. “Different.”

Dean frowned. “But it’s the curse, right?”

John nodded, looking miserable.

“Then what …” The words were punctuated with a surprised gasp when John abruptly got to his feet and dragged Dean up with him. Dean struggled a little as John tried to bend him over the table, but ceased his efforts when they only served to make John growl in frustration. Before he could get his head around what was happening, John was tugging Dean’s sweats down to get at his ass. “Okay, okay,” he said, trying to defuse the situation. “I get it.” 

John fingered him roughly for a couple of moments before pulling out his hard cock and beginning to press inside.

Dean held his breath as his hole was stretched, his hands clutching the edge of the table. A few seconds later, John was buried deep, pausing only briefly before beginning a hard, fast rhythm. Dean could do nothing but hold on, closing his eyes and gritting his teeth as John rode him hard.

It didn’t take long before John was coming with a low growl. Once he’d emptied himself, he pulled out, eliciting a sharp gasp from the man beneath him and stumbling back, trying to figure out what had just happened. “Dean?” he finally said, his voice broken.

Dean closed his eyes and let out a long breath before straightening and pulling up his pants. Turning to face his dad, he allowed his own anger to blatantly ignore the shattered look in John’s eyes. “That’s how you want to do this?” he demanded, his voice low.

John was shaking his head, his eyes wide. “Dean, I …”

“No,” Dean exclaimed, cutting him off. “I thought we’d been through this. You were going to stop fighting it, remember? What happened to that? Or did you just decide you liked it better this way?” He shook his head angrily when John seemed at a loss to answer. “You know what? Never mind.”

He went to push past his dad, headed for the bathroom, when John’s hand grabbed his arm. Without thinking, Dean turned and swung, his fist colliding with John’s jaw hard enough to have the other man releasing his arm and stumbling back a step.

Dean glared at him for a moment, knowing he should feel bad but unable to dredge up any real remorse. Without another word, he disappeared into the bathroom and slammed the door.

By the time he’d cleaned himself up and calmed down, Dean _did_ regret hitting his dad. None of this was his fault, Dean _knew_ that. He just couldn’t understand how things could be so good one minute and so horribly wrong the next. Resigning himself to the fact that it was probably just a part of the curse that they’d have to live with, he sighed, vowing to keep his own emotions in check and just roll with the punches, no pun intended.

As he opened the bathroom door, he steeled himself for what he would – or wouldn’t – find on the other side. As much as the idea of his dad leaving terrified him, he knew he couldn’t really blame the man. His relief at finding John sitting on the end of the bed with his head in his hands had him speaking before he even realized he was going to. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “It’s not your fault and I said I was on board with it. I shouldn’t have hit you.”

John raised his head and Dean was surprised to see that the brown eyes were rimmed in red.

“God, Dean, don’t apologize,” John said wearily. “If I thought it would fix anything, I’d let you beat the ever-loving shit out of me.”

Dean sighed, looking off to one side for a minute before retuning his gaze to the other man. “What happened?” he asked, his voice sounding forlorn, even to his own ears.

John shook his head slowly and Dean thought for a moment that he wasn’t going to answer. When he did, his voice was rough with emotions he didn’t usually show. “It makes me want things… but I thought I could just … only it didn’t matter… and I tried …”

Dean frowned a little as he tried to figure that out. “Could you try to be a little more vague?” he said sarcastically. “I almost got a clue there.”

John sighed and rubbed his hands on his thighs before looking at Dean once again. “I was fine when I left here, I swear,” he said, his voice stronger, “but while I was driving to the diner, I was hit with this urge to …” He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. It wasn’t something I wanted to consider so I tried to ignore it. I thought if I just came back here and we did what we did last night, that would be enough. But it wouldn’t leave me alone and it just made me crazy.” His tone hardened. “It just takes over and I can’t control it.”

Dean felt that he at least had something to work with and he thought about that for a moment. “Bobby said…” He tried to think of how Bobby had worded it when he’d first talked to him. “Something about satisfying your every urge.” He frowned a little. “Is that it? You have to do whatever it is it’s making you want to do or else you end up hulking out?”

John huffed a startled laugh at Dean’s choice of comparison but he couldn’t deny that it was fairly accurate. “Yeah, I think so.”

Dean was nodding. “Okay. So we figure it out as we go along. Not the first time we’ve had to do that.”

“No, it’s not,” John agreed before his expression turned apologetic once again. “I’m sorry,” he said sincerely. “If I had known ignoring it would hurt you, I would have talked to you about it.”

“You didn’t hurt me,” Dean corrected him, “you pissed me off.”

John touched his jaw with an amused smirk. “Yeah, I got that.”

“So, what …” Dean licked his lips, annoyed at feeling nervous about asking. “What was it you wanted to do?”

“Tie you up,” John said without holding back. “Now do you see why it wasn’t something I wanted to do with you?”

Dean nodded absently, knowing his dad knew how much he hated being tied up. But in his defense, that was mostly because whatever was restraining him usually wanted to eat him, or drain his blood or cut off vital body parts. He swallowed once. “So, uh … how does this work? Do you still have to do that, or …” He allowed the thought to trail off, knowing John had caught his meaning.

John shrugged. “It seemed to go away after…” he gestured toward the table. “When it hits again, I don’t know if it’ll be the same thing or something different.”

“Then how about you tell me, whatever it is,” Dean suggested. “It’ll be my choice if it’s something I’m willing to do or if I’d rather wait and be fucked like a piece of meat once you lose it.” John winced and Dean got a modicum of satisfaction from that. 

“I’ll tell you,” John said, his tone meeker than Dean had ever heard it.

Dean looked around the room, his eyes lingering on the laptop for a moment. “What now?” he asked. “We can’t exactly start a hunt when we have no idea when you’re gonna be whammied next.”

“We’ve earned some downtime anyway,” John said. “We don’t have to stay here if you don’t want to, though. We could drive a while, hit some bars, shoot some pool, check out a few of the latest movies.”

Dean smiled a little, not missing the fact that his dad had just listed what he knew to be some of Dean’s favorite ways to kill time. “Sounds like a plan,” he said.

Since there was nothing resembling a hunt in the area, they decided to hit the road and while neither of them had a destination in mind, Dean noticed that they were headed in the general direction of South Dakota. He didn’t say anything, but he knew John was thinking that if anything were to go wrong, or they weren’t able to break the curse, he wanted Dean to have someone close by to turn to. They’d decided they’d drive a couple of hours, so when John pulled into a motel a half hour short of that, Dean shot him a concerned look.

“It just started,” John assured him without making eye contact. He parked in front of the office and got out to rent the room. A few minutes later, he was back, not saying a word as he drove down to the room at the end of the row and parked.

Taking his cue from John, Dean didn’t say anything as he got their bags from the trunk and followed his father inside.

“Look,” Dean said, once they were in the room with the door closed. “I know I said I wanted you to tell me beforehand, but why don’t we just go about our business and when you feel you need to do something, just … do it, okay? Whatever it is, I’m telling you ahead of time that I’m okay with it.”

John looked at him as though trying to tell if he was being sincere. Seeing nothing but concern – for John, not himself – in the green eyes, he nodded in resignation. “Yeah, okay.”

Trying to lighten the mood, Dean smirked a little. “Don’t sound so enthusiastic.”

John moved closer until he was standing only a couple of feet away, his gaze taking in every feature of Dean’s face. “The things it makes me want to do to you,” he whispered.

Dean swallowed once. “You can,” he said, just as quietly. “Whatever you need.”

John reached out to tentatively touch Dean’s arm before drawing it back. “I don’t…”

Dean stopped him. “If you don’t, it makes it worse,” he said, “for both of us.”

Those words seemed to get through and the uncertainty bled quickly from John’s eyes, to be replaced with a mixture of determination and desire. Without warning, he pulled Dean into a strong embrace and kissed him.

It took Dean’s brain a moment to catch up, but when it did, he relaxed into it, closing his eyes and allowing John to take control. The kiss started out tentative but soon grew stronger, deeper and Dean found himself returning it without thought. He’d always been a tactile person and the arms holding him felt good, despite the situation. He knew it was fucked-up, but he’d spent his whole life striving for John’s approval and affection and even though it was currently being influenced by something supernatural, he couldn’t deny that it felt good, especially compared to the cold harshness of a few hours ago. 

As soon as Dean started to respond, John groaned and deepened the kiss, unable to get enough of the sensation of Dean’s lips beneath his. Unwilling to give that up, he began moving them toward the bed at a decidedly unhurried pace, his tongue languidly mapping out the warm recesses of Dean’s mouth and reveling in every breathy sound that escaped the younger man.

By the time John finally ended the kiss, Dean was breathless, staring at his father’s face with no small sense of amazement. John reached out one hand to touch his jaw, his thumb slowly caressing Dean’s bottom lip.

“I want to go slow,” John whispered. “Drive you crazy.”

Dean licked his lips absently. “OK,” he breathed. 

John slowly began to undress him and Dean wasn’t sure if he was supposed to reciprocate. He reached hesitantly for the buttons on John’s shirt and John smiled softly, letting him know it was OK. Dean took his cue from John, not saying anything, just looking into the other man’s eyes as their unhurried movements seemed to electrify the air around them.

Once they were both naked, John gently lowered Dean to his back on the bed and took a moment to drink in the view stretched out before him. Dean’s cheeks were slightly flushed, lending a brighter intensity to the green eyes. His lips were red and swollen from the kiss and John licked his own in anticipation before allowing his gaze to travel downward.

Dean could feel his skin warming as John’s eyes caressed him as thoroughly as hands ever could. He wasn’t usually comfortable with such blatant staring, knowing that he had scars both inside and out that he considered less than attractive, but something in John’s demeanour told him that he needed this – needed to look, to see, to know.

When the need to touch became too strong, John climbed onto the bed and kissed Dean once before moving on to trail his lips down his jawline to where neck met shoulder. No words passed his lips as he continued the downward journey, hands following in the wake of his mouth as he paid homage to the man’s throat, his shoulders, his chest.

Dean began to writhe beneath the man so slowly seducing him. In all his sexual encounters, he’d never been the focus of such worshipful attention and it crossed his mind that if John really wanted to drive him crazy, he was doing a damned good job.

He gasped as his dad’s lips found their way to the base of his twitching cock, but John didn’t stop there for long. After placing a gentle kiss on the head, he moved on to the taut ballsac beneath, tonguing the furred globes and then blowing softly over the moistened skin.

Dean fisted his hands in the comforter, his head pressed into the pillow as John continued with his ministrations. His entire body was thrumming in anticipation, torn between wanting to end the delicious torment and wishing it could go on forever.

John gently stroked his way down the bowed legs, taking time to kiss each toe and the arch of each foot before making his way back up Dean’s body. Brown gaze locked with green as John reached for the bottle of lube.

Dean’s senses were on overload, his breath coming in breathy pants as he found himself unable to look way from the brown eyes. What he saw there made his breath catch in his throat and he had to swallow to keep from voicing his need, unwilling to shatter the heavily-laden silence.

John was still looking into Dean’s eyes as he coated his hands with the clear gel, warming it with his skin before moving one slickened hand to Dean’s hard shaft and beginning to stroke slowly.

Dean’s back arched at the touch of John’s hand on his heated flesh and he wanted to close his eyes as the sensations flooded through him, but something in John’s gaze held him mesmerized.   
He thrust gently into John’s hand a couple of times before he felt one finger pressing into his puckered opening. It stroked in and out slowly until Dean thought he’d go mad with the need for more. As though reading his thoughts, John inserted another finger to slowly move in and out with the other, carefully stretching Dean’s tight passage in sharp contrast to the almost non-existent preparation of earlier.

After a few minutes, John slowly withdrew his fingers, taking the time to coat his thick shaft with lube, his eyes never leaving Dean’s the entire time. Once he was ready, he raised both of Dean’s legs and pushed them back. Only then did his gaze flicker, leaving Dean’s flushed face to seek out the glistening hole awaiting him. John swallowed once, his whole body nearly trembling in anticipation of the moment when he’d dive deep into the warm channel.

Dean couldn’t contain a small gasp when the brown gaze returned to, once again, meet his. There was no sign of struggle or self-loathing, only a longing, a deep, wholly-consuming need for more than just the physical release he could take from Dean’s body. He needed Dean to know that he’d kept his word, that he wasn’t fighting it, that he was doing exactly what he wanted to be doing, regardless of the reasons. It was then that Dean realized that John was doing it for _him_ , that while the compulsion might be unnatural, the care and adoration he saw in John’s eyes, the desire to make it truly good for him, wasn’t. It was real and it was all for Dean.

John smiled a little, knowing from the look in Dean’s eyes that he got it. The curse might be able to make him want to do things, physically, but it didn’t change the way he felt for Dean. The love he had for his son, the admiration and the strong desire to keep him from harm was all John. As long as Dean knew that, he had no doubt they could beat that witch at her own game. With an absent lick of his lips and a small groan, he positioned the head of his cock at the pulsing hole and pressed inside, leaning forward to capture Dean’s lips in a kiss while he gave him a moment to adjust to the sensation of being filled.

Dean wrapped his arms around John and pulled him close, moaning into the kiss as he felt the cock inside him begin to move. It was a gentle rocking at first, and then John began to pull out and push back in with a slow, steady rhythm. Dean matched it easily, rising to meet every deliberate thrust and clenching his muscles tightly upon every withdrawal, his own cock trapped between their hard bodies.

John could feel the other man’s body tensing and he concentrated on swallowing every gasp and breathy moan that passed from Dean’s mouth to his. He increased the tempo of his thrusts slightly, adjusting his hips to stroke deep inside the willing body and he felt Dean shudder as John’s cock found his prostate. He continued to stroke the same spot, tightening his arms around Dean and intensifying the kiss as he felt Dean’s warm seed begin to spurt between their close-pressed bodies. The soft whimper that rose from Dean’s throat was enough to send him crashing over the edge, moaning quietly into the warm mouth as he pumped his hips, emptying himself deep inside Dean’s body. Only when the last spasm had passed did John pull his lips reluctantly from those of the man beneath him. Looking down into the flushed face, he smiled softly before carefully pulling out and rolling to one side.

Dean closed his eyes as he got his breathing under control. After a long moment, he turned his head to look at John’s profile. “Think it would fuck with the curse if I said that was awesome?”

John huffed a surprised chuckle. “I doubt it. All that matters is that I satisfy the compulsion, which I did.”

Dean turned his head to look up at the ceiling, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah, well … still awesome.”

~~~

After they both showered, they grabbed lunch at the restaurant adjoining the motel and then picked up a few things from the hardware store nearby. While John was packing the new supplies away in the trunk, Dean nodded toward the convenience store across the street. “I’m gonna grab some beer, you want anything?”

“No, go ahead,” John said absently as he tried to wedge the new shovel in amongst the other items.

Dean grabbed beer and a few munchies before returning to where John was just finishing up in the trunk. “The guy in the store said there’s a pool hall around the corner. Maybe we could rustle up a few extra dollars while we’re killing time,” he suggested.

John closed the trunk and considered that for a minute. “Hustling’s probably not a good idea, under the circumstances,” he said. “But I’m up for a game or two just for fun if you are.”

Dean grinned. It had been a while since they’d played one another just for the sake of fun and the idea definitely appealed to him. “You’re on,” he said. After he’d dropped off his purchases inside the room, they headed out in the direction the store clerk had indicated.

John won the first game, but not without effort and Dean smirked as he started setting up for another game. “I remember when you could kick my ass without even trying,” he said.

“I still kicked your ass,” John reminded him as he helped gather balls from the various pockets.

Dean snorted. “That was me showing respect for my elders,” he teased.

John cocked one eyebrow. “Is that right?”

“Yep,” Dean said, knowing full well that John knew he’d won fair and square. They were both far too competitive to ever let the other win, even when Dean had been younger and just learning to play. He nodded at the table. “And in keeping with the whole age before beauty thing, you can break.”

John rolled his eyes but his lips quirked as he leaned over and took the first shot. They continued the banter as they played, both of them appreciating the rare chance to just relax and enjoy the game. When Dean won, he flashed his dad a cocky grin.

“It’s only fair to let the youngsters win once in a while,” John said, smiling indulgently.

Dean snorted. “If you believe that, then you really are getting soft in your old age.”

“Want another one? Or do you want to quit while you’re ahead?” John teased.

“Technically, I’m not ahead,” Dean pointed out, “but there’s a lot to be said for going out on a high note.” 

When they left the pool hall a few drops of rain were falling and they made it back to the motel just as it started to pour. Taking off his boots and jacket, Dean grabbed the remote and sat on the end of one of the beds while John headed into the bathroom to take a piss. 

“What did you find?” John asked as he came out of the bathroom.

“Star Wars,” Dean said triumphantly.

“Haven’t we seen that a hundred times?” John asked in amusement as he took a seat at the table and opened the laptop

“It’s a classic,” Dean pointed out. Smirking, he added, “Besides, you probably won’t remember it, anyway. You know what they say, the memory is the first to go.”

“Keep up the old jokes,” John warned lightheartedly. “You’re not too old to put over my knee, you know.”

Dean snorted as he got up to grab the munchies he’d bought earlier. “Yeah, right, you haven’t spanked me since I was … hey!” he exclaimed as John grabbed him and pulled him over his knee.

“What did I tell you?” John said, grinning as he smacked the denim clad ass once. “That’s for the cracks about my age.”

“Ow, okay,” Dean exclaimed, laughing, “I’m sorry.” He moved to get up, only to have John stop him with a firm hand to his neck. “Hey,” he said, unnerved by the sudden silence.

John took a ragged breath. “Jesus, Dean.”

Dean could tell by the tone of voice that things had changed from the roughhousing they used to indulge in from time to time. He held his breath as he felt John’s hand tentatively touch his ass before hastily pulling Dean off his lap and steadying him back on his feet.

“Damnit,” John said, raking a hand through his hair. “I was just kidding around, I swear.”

Dean nodded. “That’s how it started,” he acknowledged, “but now?”

John’s jaw clenched briefly before he forced himself to relax. Taking Dean’s earlier assurances into consideration, he got to his feet, allowing the compulsion to course through him. Without answering, he reached for Dean’s fly, undoing the button and pulling down the zipper.

Dean made a move to take off his shirt, but John stopped him with one hand and a small shake of his head. Leading Dean toward the bed, he sat down on one end and pulled Dean’s jeans and boxers down to his knees.

“Over my lap,” John said hoarsely.

Dean hesitated only briefly before he slowly got himself into position, his bare ass exposed to whatever John wanted to do. As soon as John touched his bare skin, Dean could feel the unnatural warmth radiating from John’s hand and knew that he was in the grip of the curse. Swallowing once, he shifted a little, his movement limited by the denim around his knees.

“I want to redden this ass good,” John breathed, caressing the pale cheeks.

“OK,” Dean whispered.

As though he’d been waiting for the approval, John smacked the pale skin once, mesmerized by the way his handprint went from white to pink as he watched. “Jesus.”

Dean hissed in a sharp breath as the second strike landed. He’d been with a woman once who liked getting her ass spanked but Dean had never had a desire to be on the receiving end. As John’s heavy hand made contact for the third time, it became clear that this want’s going to be the reserved, playful spanking he’d given Debbie … or Donna or whatever her name had been. 

“You should see this,” John murmured, pulling Dean from his thoughts. “So nice and pink.” He landed three more sharp slaps before pausing to caress the reddening skin. “You look so fucking hot like this, your pants around your knees, taking you spanking like the good boy that you are.”

“Fuck,” Dean breathed, his cock twitching in spite of the fact that he’d never considered pain a turn-on. His ass was already stinging and he knew John wasn’t finished yet. He gasped as the spanking started again, covering every inch of his ass until it was throbbing in time with his increased heart rate. “Please,” he finally whimpered, tears stinging his eyes.

John paused, rubbing his hand over the heated flesh. “Does that hurt?” he asked in a low tone. “Tell me.”

“Yeah,” Dean gasped as the large hand continued stroking his sore ass. “Yeah, it hurts.”

John laid down five more hard slaps before stopping to lightly trail his fingers over Dean’s skin. “So fucking hot.” He took another minute to admire the glowing, red skin before patting one cheek gently. “Up.”

Dean got to his feet awkwardly, still somewhat hindered by the jeans around his knees.

“Turn around,” John said.

Dean could feel the heat rising in his face as he slowly turned to display his ass to John’s gaze.

John stood up behind him and Dean hissed as John pressed his jean-clad erection against the sensitive skin. “You feel that?” John whispered into his ear. “You feel what you do to me when you’re such a good boy?”

Dean shivered, whether from the words or the warm breath in his ear he wasn’t sure. “Yeah,” he managed in a shaky whisper.

John grasped Dean’s chin and pulled his head back until it was resting on John’s shoulder. “You want to be good for me, don’t you?” He licked at the tears on Dean’s cheek. “Don’t you, Dean? Tell me.”

Dean swallowed, feeling another tear escape to track down his face. “I want… I want to be good for you,” he whispered hoarsely.

John moaned, grinding his hips into Dean’s red ass. “Yeah, I know you do. You’d stand here just like this for the rest of the day if I told you to, wouldn’t you? Jeans bunched around your knees, your red ass on display, tears streaking that pretty face.” He hummed in approval, his tongue reaching out to catch yet another tear as it fell. “So fucking hot.” He reached down with one hand, pinching one red cheek until Dean hissed with the pain before releasing him and taking a step back. “Lose the clothes and get on the bed on your knees.”

Dean pushed his jeans and boxers down to his ankles and then stepped out of them before pulling off his shirts and climbing onto the bed.

John quickly shed his own clothing before moving to kneel on the bed behind the other man. He caressed the reddened cheeks for a moment, moaning appreciatively at the heat and color of the skin. “I want to fuck that red ass,” he whispered into Dean’s ear. “You want that, too? Want me to pound into that sore ass of yours? Make the burn even worse before it gets better? Before it feels so good that you forget the pain? Forget your own fucking name?”

Dean moaned, his cock already half hard. “Yeah,” he breathed. “Please.”

John deposited a soft kiss behind Dean’s left ear before he reached for the lube, coating his fingers liberally before pushing one slowly into the tight channel. The other arm came up to wrap around Dean’s chest, pulling Dean’s body back against his as he stretched him open. “Can’t wait to be buried in that hot ass,” John whispered. “Hear the sounds you make as I fill you, the way you gasp and moan when my skin brushes against yours.”

“Jesus,” Dean breathed, unable to believe how turned on he was. It was hard to reconcile the dirty talk with the man who’d been so attentive and caring earlier but he wasn’t complaining and his cock was obviously on board. The whole Jekyll and Hyde concept only made it more exciting somehow, not having the slightest clue what he could expect next.

John’s fingers withdrew after a few minutes and his cock took their place, pressing at Dean’s entrance. He pulled Dean back against his chest, kissing one shoulder and trailing his lips up to the younger man’s ear. “Here I come.” He pushed Dean forward a little and pushed into him with one long thrust, chuckling seductively at the startled gasp he received in reply, despite the warning. He ground his hips against Dean’s ass, reveling in the soft whimpers escaping Dean’s throat at the contact with his inflamed skin. He withdrew his arm from across Dean’s chest and allowed the smaller man to fall forward, bracing himself with his hands on the bed while John grasped both hips. Pulling out slowly, John watched his cock withdraw from between the reddened cheeks only to disappear again as he pushed back in. “So hot,” he murmured. “I can feel the heat still radiating off your ass.”

Dean mewled, his weeping cock jerking each time John pushed into him. The slow, deep thrusts continued for a few moments before John reached down, placing one large hand in the middle of Dean’s chest and pulling him once again to his knees. 

“You’re so perfect like this,” John said, his hips snapping forward to drive a startled grunt from the younger man. “All fresh from your spanking, taking my cock so deep.”

Dean moaned at the words, reaching for his leaking cock and beginning to stroke it in time with John’s thrusts.

“That’s it,” John said, increasing the tempo slightly. “Show me how much you like it, how good it hurts having your sore ass impaled on my cock.”

Dean whimpered and came, his cock spurting thick ropes of come over the bedspread.

“Good boy,” John whispered into his ear before he began to fuck him even harder. After a few more deep strokes into the pliant body, he growled low in his throat and came.

“Fuck,” Dean breathed, sagging back against his father for a moment before he hissed and leaned forward again. 

John was breathing deep. “Jesus, Dean,” he gasped as he regained enough control over his mind and body to fully realize what had just happened. 

Dean grimaced a little as John’s cock slipped from him. “I’m OK,” he said wearily.

John eased his grip and backed off the bed, allowing Dean to stretch out on his stomach. “Christ,” he breathed as he looked at the reddened skin in horror. “I don’t know why it made me want to do that.”

“Probably knows you’re a kinky bastard,” Dean murmured, folding his arms and resting his head on them.

John was shaking his head, jaw clenched. “Earlier was one thing but this… this isn’t me, this isn’t something I’ve ever wanted to do to anyone, let alone you.”

“Hey,” Dean said, propping himself up on his elbows and turning his head to look at his father. “I thought we agreed, no freaking out. As for why this, who the Hell knows? But it wouldn’t be much of a curse if it only made you do and want things you would have anyway.”

“I guess,” John said, not sounding entirely convinced.

“And if you’re beating yourself up because you think you hurt me and I hated it, there’s a helluva wet spot underneath me that would beg to differ.”

John allowed the words to ease his conscience and after a minute, he nodded his acceptance.

“Bottom line?” Dean said, cocking one eyebrow and waiting until he had John’s attention. “I’d rather have a red ass and an awesome orgasm than to feel like you don’t even know I’m there.”

John looked at him, taking a deep breath and blowing it out slowly as he acknowledged the words. “Yeah, me too,” he finally said. He thought for a second and then grimaced a little as his gaze once again landed on Dean’s red ass. “I guess the least I could do is get you a cool towel or something.”

Dean grinned, pillowing his head on his arms once again. “Sounds awesome.”

John disappeared into the bathroom for a few minutes and Dean heard the water running and then his dad wringing out what he assumed was a towel before returning and placing it gently over Dean’s ass. Dean hissed a little before humming appreciatively as the coolness began to seep into his burning skin. “Thanks,” he murmured, closing his eyes.

An uncustomary lump formed in John’s throat at the single word, knowing full well that it was _he_ who owed the debt of gratitude to his son, not the other way around. “Get some sleep,” he finally said quietly.

End of Part Four


	5. Chapter 5

When Dean awoke a couple of hours later, it was to find himself covered with a warm blanket and surrounded by the aromas of Chinese Food.

As he rolled over, his ass made contact with the bed, causing him to gasp. 

The sound caught John’s attention and he looked up from where he was unpacking the food. Grimacing a little at the memory of how hard he’d spanked Dean, he shook his head and went back to his task. “I thought you might be hungry.”

Dean nodded groggily as his mind processed what had happened earlier. “Yeah,” he said, gingerly getting to his feet. “Just let me grab a quick shower.” 

After showering, Dean pulled on a pair of sweats and a t-shirt before making his way to the table. He sat down with more care than he would normally take, wincing a little and adjusting his position as John watched.

“Want a pillow?” John asked, trying to sound casual but unable to keep a hint of apology out of the tone.

Dean shot him a glare. “I’m fine.” He reached for his favorite dish and started eating, glancing out the window. “I see it’s still raining.”

“Hasn’t let up at all,” John concurred. “Forecast calls for it to keep up most of the night.”

Dean nodded. “Guess that leaves a movie, then,” he said. “The weapons could use cleaning anyway.”

“Not sure if you’ll find anything on TV,” John said gruffly, “but I downloaded a couple of the Star Wars movies onto the laptop while you were sleeping.” He shrugged uncomfortably. “Just in case you were still interested in watching them.”

Dean grinned, appreciating the gesture. “Awesome.”

After they ate, John made a dash out to the car to get the weapons while Dean fumbled with the hookup Sam had shown him so that they could watch movies from the laptop on a TV screen. He was pleased with himself when the movie’s opening credits appeared on the larger screen and he grabbed the remote to adjust the volume as John brought the weapons bag in.

The sat in silence each on their own bed, cleaning the weapons as they watched the movie. When the closing credits began to roll, Dean got up to put the newly-cleaned weapons back in the bag before moving to the laptop to start the next movie. He was about to reclaim his spot on the bed when John reached out and grabbed his wrist. Dean looked down at his father who still sat on the other bed.

“Turn around,” John said, his tone hushed.

Dean looked at him for a moment before slowly turning his back to the seated man. He held his breath as John slipped his fingers under the waistband of Dean’s sweats and slowly pulled them down to reveal the still-pink skin of his ass.

“So beautiful,” John murmured before placing a gentle kiss on Dean’s left ass cheek. “Still warm from your spanking.”

Dean let his breath out slowly as John kissed the other cheek, relieved that John didn’t seem inclined to start spanking him again.

“Does it still hurt?” John asked quietly as he caressed the twin globes with his hands.

“No,” Dean replied, surprised at how husky his voice sounded. Clearing his throat, he added, “It still feels kinda warm, but it doesn’t hurt.”

John reached for the lube and slicked his fingers before trailing one down the crease of Dean’s ass and then pushing slowly inside. He stroked in and out a few times before beginning to massage Dean’s prostate with the lone digit. “Think you could come for me like this?” John asked. “Standing right where you are while I milk you?”

Dean could feel his cock already hardening as John continued with the gentle massage. “Yeah.”

“Good,” John murmured. “Spread your legs a little wider. Give me some room.”

Dean did just that, widening his stance a little as John pressed a steadying hand to the flat of his stomach. 

John continued his ministrations for a few minutes before adding another finger to join the first in massaging Dean’s prostate. “Feel good?” he asked with a smirk as Dean let out a low moan.

“Yeah,” Dean breathed, unable to deny it as he bent forward a little, pushing his ass back.

John moved his hand from Dean’s stomach to his hip. “Bend over,” he instructed. “Brace your hands on your knees.”

Dean did as instructed, his breath coming in harsh pants as the pressure to his prostate intensified. His cock was fully hard and leaking and his head was starting to spin with the constant stimulation as John continued to work his prostate relentlessly. “I swear to God,” he gasped after a few minutes, fearing that his legs would give out, “if I faceplant onto this fucking carpet…” 

John chuckled as he used his left hand to open his zipper and free his own hard cock. He withdrew his fingers from Dean’s ass and used it to hold his cock steady while the other hand returned to Dean’s hip to guide him back and down.

Dean gasped as he felt the tip of John’s cock at his hole. Nearly mad with need, he pushed back, impaling himself until he was seated in John’s lap, his back leaning against his father’s hard chest. “Fuck,” he breathed.

John chuckled. “Since you asked so nice.” He snapped his hips up, spearing Dean even deeper and eliciting a surprised yelp from the younger man. “But we can’t forget the milking, can we?” He reached around and pressed on Dean’s perineum with his thumb, his hips rolling and grinding in small circles.

The added stimulation was all it took to send Dean flying over the edge with a surprised curse. John continued to massage his prostate externally until he was spent, a small whimper escaping Dean’s lips at the over-stimulation.

John gave Dean a moment to come down, knowing how intense a prostate orgasm could be. Once Dean’s breathing evened out a little, John kissed the side of his neck before grasping both hips and lifting him slightly, only to pull him back down as he snapped his hips up. He did it three more times, reveling in the soft moans coming from Dean’s lips.

“Fuck,” John breathed, his cock spewing deep inside the warm channel as he held Dean down hard in his lap. 

Dean closed his eyes, allowing himself a moment to lean back against John’s chest. He expected the usual freak-out and was surprised when John chuckled low in his throat. 

“Looks like someone’s ready for another nap,” John said, kissing Dean’s t-shirt clad shoulder before gently helping him off John’s lap and to his feet. He steadied him a moment while Dean got his balance. “Forget the shower,” he said. “Lie down and I’ll get you a washcloth.”

Too sated to argue, Dean moved a couple of steps and collapsed onto his own bed while his dad disappeared into the bathroom.

When John returned a couple of minutes later with a warm washcloth, Dean took it from his hands and cleaned himself up before handing it back. 

“I’m starting to think I’m the one who was cursed,” Dean said wearily as he reached over the edge of the bed to snag his sweats and pull them on. “I haven’t come so much since I was eighteen.” He flopped back on the bed and closed his eyes.

John smirked. “You’re the last person I’d expect to complain about too much sex,” he said as he tossed the washcloth into the bathroom.

Glad that his dad was taking it so lightly compared to even a day ago, Dean grinned. “Who said I was complaining?”

They were both silent for a moment. “It’s getting stronger,” John said. “The need, I mean. I know what it was like when I tried to resist it before, but now I don’t even know what might happen if I tried.”

“So don’t try,” Dean said on a yawn. “At this point it wouldn’t make much sense anyway. In for a penny, in for a pound and all that shit.”

“I’m worried about what it might still make me want to do,” John said quietly.

Dean snorted. “Where’s your sense of adventure? As long as you don’t get a sudden urge to kill me and fuck my corpse, I’m pretty much up for anything else.”

John shook his head, still surprised, sometimes, by how frank Dean could be when it came to talking about things most people would consider beyond fucked-up. “If it’s all the same to you, that’s one I’ll try to resist,” he deadpanned

Dean huffed a laugh. “I’d appreciate that.”

“Want me to start the movie over?” John asked, glancing at the TV.

“You can if you want,” Dean said, “but I’m probably just going to take advantage of the downtime and get some sleep.”

“At least open the bed so you can pull up the covers if you get cold later,” John said, unable to resist years of parenting.

Dean sighed, but then took the suggestion, sitting up and pulling back the bedspread, blanket and top sheet. He slipped between the sheets and pulled the covers over him before cocking one eyebrow at his dad. “Happy?”

“Ecstatic,” John said with a roll of his eyes before he turned his attention to the weapons that still needed to be put away.

When Dean awoke, he wasn’t sure what time it was, only that the room was dark. Years of training had him instantly on alert for whatever had awakened him, but he didn’t move a muscle. As soon as the warm body at his back and the hand on his hip registered, he relaxed.

“Hey,” John murmured into his ear before kissing his neck.

“Hey,” Dean reciprocated, waiting to see what John had in mind.

“One of us has way too many clothes on,” John said, pushing his hard dick against Dean’s covered ass.

Dean huffed a soft laugh. “I’m guessing that’s me.”

“And you think Sam’s the smart one,” John teased.

Dean rolled his eyes and sat up, stripping off his t-shirt and then working off the sweats under the covers before tossing both to the floor and turning to lay on his back.

“Uh-uh,” John said, nudging his shoulder gently. “The way you were before.”

Dean turned slowly onto his side as John pulled the covers to the bottom of the bed, exposing their bodies to the room’s cool air. John slid one arm under the younger man and curled it around his body. Moving closer, he propped his upper body on one elbow, pressing his chest and legs along the curve of Dean’s body.

Dean was suddenly glad for the lack of covers, John’s overly-warm skin pressed against his from his back right down to his ankles. It felt good, though, comforting almost. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to bask in the sensation of being surrounded by the other man.

John stroked his free hand over Dean’s hip and thigh, then down between his legs, nudging gently. When Dean lifted his leg in response, John slipped his knee between the younger man’s thighs. John kissed one bare shoulder reverently before reaching for the bottle of lube he’d placed close by. Flicking the cap open with his thumbnail, he tilted the bottle to allow the liquid to pour into his palm before closing the lid and dropping the bottle onto the bedspread. He slipped one slick finger between Dean’s ass cheeks, lightly running it up the crevice, almost to the small of his back before following the same path back down to his balls and then starting the enticing journey all over again.

Dean sighed and tried to give himself over to John’s slow pace, but when the slick finger made its way back to his puckered hole and began to push inside, he couldn’t hold back a quiet moan.

John pushed the finger in slowly before retreating at the same maddening pace. “Gonna make this so good for you,” he breathed into Dean’s ear.

Dean’s breath caught in his throat. He now knew from experience that when John wanted to make it good, it was _really_ fucking good. A moment later, he abandoned all thought to sensation as John continued to slide his finger in and out.

“Gonna take you real slow,” John murmured seductively.

“OK,” Dean breathed as the finger pushed in again, this time a little deeper. John slowly rocked in and out, each stroke slightly longer than the one before. As John’s finger finally pushed in as far as it could possibly go, Dean let out a soft groan. When John introduced a second finger alongside the first, Dean’s back arched slightly, his breath catching in his chest as he felt his body slowly being stretched. Dean’s hips began to move involuntarily, small, barely-there thrusts as John’s fingers stroked in and out in slow motion. Dean allowed his breathing to sync with the rhythm of John’s hand. After a few minutes, John’s other hand began to caress Dean’s chest, fingernails raking lightly over sensitive nipples and bringing them to aching hardness. At the same time, John’s lips were pressing soft kisses into the arch of Dean’s neck, sending the younger man’s senses reeling to the point that, when the third finger pressed into his hole, it was almost enough to send him hurtling over the edge.

John sensed how close the younger man was and backed off, the fingers in Dean’s ass and on his chest stilling as John kissed just below Dean’s ear. “Not yet,” he whispered. “Stay with me, Dean. Can you do that?”

Dean took a deep breath, willing himself back from the edge, the need subsiding to a manageable level. After a moment, he nodded once. “Yeah.”

John kissed his throat again as though in reward before pressing his fingers in again, this time even slower. Dean sucked air into his lungs as the sensations began to build once again, the feeling of John’s hands on his skin, knowing that it was three of the man’s thick fingers pressing deep inside him. He endured the sweet torment for as long as John continued to play his body. “Please,” he finally whispered.

John pushed his fingers as deep as they would go, scissoring them a couple of times before holding them still. “Deep breath, Dean,” he murmured. When Dean did as instructed, he continued, “now let it out, nice and slow.” As Dean slowly exhaled, John curled his fingers and pressed on Dean’s sweet spot, causing the younger man to cry out in pleasure.

When John’s fingers slowly withdrew from his ass, Dean practically sobbed at the loss, barely registering the feel of John’s hand spreading his ass cheeks. When he felt the tip of John’s cock at his hole, he wanted nothing more than to push back onto it, to impale himself on the hard length, but John obviously had other plans. Strong hands held Dean still while only the head of John’s cock pushed inside his welcoming hole. “Please,” Dean whispered, the breath catching in his throat.

John kissed his shoulder gently, knowing the exquisite torture Dean was enduring but having no control over what he wanted. He held Dean steady as he reveled in the sensation, the head of his cock nestled snugly inside Dean’s hole. “You feel so good,” he whispered, kissing Dean’s shoulder again. After a moment, he pushed in only a little before pulling back until just the head, once again, remained inside. He continued with the slow thrusts, going just a bit deeper each time, soothing Dean’s whimpers with soft kisses to his neck and shoulder. “So good for me,” he whispered. He continued to rock into the other man until he was finally buried to the hilt. After a slow withdrawal, he pushed all the way in again, groaning low in his throat as Dean’s warmth enveloped his cock. “Nice and slow, OK?” John said, relaxing his grip on Dean’s hip and allowing the younger man to move.

Dean could only nod, taking a deep breath and trying to match his hips to John’s slow rhythm. Their bodies moved together and apart in long, easy thrusts, one of John’s hands toying with his nipples while the other caressed whatever parts of Dean’s body it could reach.

It seemed to go on for hours, Dean’s body riding the flesh impaling him until he thought he’d actually go mad with the need to come. Finally, John shifted his position, bending Dean’s leg at the knee to give himself better access. Dean didn’t bother trying to stifle the sob of relief that escaped as John began fucking him a little faster, each stroke going impossibly deep inside his body. John’s hips were circling and grinding as he pushed into the pliant body with increasing momentum. He reached for Dean’s cock and began stroking it in time with his thrusts.

After only a few thrusts, Dean was gone, the intensity of his orgasm ripping a strangled cry from his throat as his ass clenched like a vice around John’s cock.

John grunted, unable to do anything but follow the other man over the edge.

They lay there for a long moment, John’s hands having stilled on Dean’s body, their breathing heavy, John’s softening cock still buried in Dean’s ass.

Once Dean’s mind became functional enough to register the fact that one of John’s hands was still on his chest, the other on his thigh, he realized that they were still much warmer than normal. It hadn’t taken long to realize that as soon as John came, the grip of the curse relaxed and John’s body temp returned to normal. The fact that it was still unusually high had him frowning in concern. “You OK?” he asked quietly

“Mmmm,” John murmured behind him. “Better than OK.”

Dean waited a moment for John to move and when he didn’t, Dean shifted, planning to get out of the bed to clean himself up.

“No,” John whispered, pulling him closer, his hips shifting and causing Dean to gasp at the sensation of the cock still trapped in his ass. “Stay.”

Not wanting to do anything that would interfere with the curse in a negative way, Dean forced himself to relax. After a few minutes, he felt John’s softened cock slip from his ass but John only murmured sleepily, shifting closer until he was pressed against Dean’s back. When Dean heard the first soft snore, he debated getting cleaned up and taking the other bed.

He was still debating when he drifted off into an exhausted sleep.

~~~

The next time Dean woke up, he could see sunlight shining through the crack between the drapes telling him that it was no longer night and no longer raining. Memories of the night before came flooding back and he realized he was once again alone in the bed as he rolled over, his gaze searching automatically for his father. John sat at the table with a cup of coffee and the laptop opened in front of him. He’d obviously heard Dean move because the brown eyes were trained on him. “Hey,” Dean muttered quietly.

“Hey,” John reciprocated. 

When John didn’t say anything else, Dean rolled out of the bed, grimacing at the feel of dried come on his stomach and thighs. Heading straight to the bathroom, he showered and brushed his teeth before returning to the other room to pull on a clean pair of boxers, jeans and a t-shirt. Glancing at his watch, he was surprised to see they still had a couple of hours before check-out time. Sleeping a couple of hours here and there, he found it increasingly hard to keep track of time. “We checking out? Or staying another day?” he asked.

“I think I may have found a hunt,” John said, turning back to the laptop. “Couple of hours from here, a tavern has been experiencing strange occurrences. Local authorities couldn’t find anything so they assumed it was someone the owner knew playing pranks but when I dug dug a little deeper, I found out a man had been killed in a bar fight there a couple of years ago.”

“You’re thinking poltergeist,” Dean surmised.

John nodded. “It’s a possibility. I think we should at least talk to the owner, find out if anything else has happened besides what he already reported, see if he was the one who owned the place when the guy was killed, that sort of thing.” He saw the skeptical look Dean was giving him and rolled his eyes. “It’s a bar, Dean. If anything happens we leave and nobody even bats an eye.”

“It’s getting worse, though, isn’t it?” Dean asked. “The fever is lasting longer.”

John blew out a long breath. “Yeah.” He winced a little. “At first, it was gone as soon as I did whatever it wanted me to do. Now, it seems to hang on longer. Even after I come, it’s like I’m still in the zone, like what we’re doing is normal and not being influenced. It gradually fades but it’s not an abrupt change like it was in the beginning.”

Dean took a moment to think about that. The spanking incident was the last time John had freaked out immediately after the fact. He was still trying to figure out if that was better or worse when John spoke again. 

“But when it starts, it’s more insistent,” John said. “I never know what it’s going to be or when it’s going to hit, but when it does, it hits hard.”

“All the more reason you don’t want to be in a crowded bar if that happens,” Dean pointed out. 

John knew that Dean had every right to be concerned about such a scenario occurring. “Yeah,” he said reluctantly. “You’re probably right.”

Dean took pity on the other man, knowing that the forced downtime was probably driving him crazy. A hunt might be just what they both needed, something to take their minds off everything else, if only temporarily.

“We could check it out, but on one condition,” Dean said. “The minute, and I mean the _minute_ you feel it starting, we leave. I don’t care if we’re in the middle of an eyewitness account from the poltergeist itself, we’re outta there.”

John smiled. “Yeah, OK,” he said with a nod. “I can do that.”

“Then let’s get out of here,” Dean said. “We can stop for breakfast on the way.”

~~~

Dean was dozing in the passenger seat when he became aware that they’d stopped and John had turned off the engine. He glanced at the clock and knew they couldn’t be in Cramden yet. After glancing out the window to find nothing but trees lining the narrow dirt road, he frowned at his dad. “Where are we?”

John grinned at him and got out of the car, circling around her back end to open the passenger door. “Get out.”

Dean blinked at him once, but then released his seatbelt and got out of the car. “What’s…”

He was cut off as John grabbed his shoulders and pulled him into a harsh kiss, the warmth of his skin answering the question Dean hadn’t had a chance to finish.

“I’m going to fuck you,” John growled, “hard and fast with you bent over the hood of the car, jeans around your ankles.”

Dean swallowed but didn’t say anything as John dragged him around to the front of the car. He bent Dean over until his upper body was pressed against the warm hood, his palms flat on the shiny, black surface. John pulled his hips out a bit and then leaned over to whisper in Dean’s ear, “Stay right like that, understand?”

Dean nodded, his cock twitching as John reached around to undo his fly and lower his jeans and boxers to his knees. He was relieved when, after a moment, a slick finger circled his puckered entrance before pushing slowly inside.

“Should have left her running,” John murmured, “let her purr in your ear while I open you up.”

Dean wasn’t sure what it said about him that the idea had his cock hardening. He knew he loved the car, but he never expected the idea of getting fucked over her hood to be such a turn on.

“This is private property, you know,” John whispered in his ear as he introduced a second finger and continued to stretch him carefully, despite his earlier promise of hard and fast. “The farmer or whoever owns this place could come by at any minute, see you bent over with your bare ass on display.”

Dean mentally added exhibitionism to the list of kinks he never knew he had as his cock hardened further.

John added a third finger, twisting and scissoring deep inside Dean’s body. “Maybe he’d stop and watch,” he continued. “Maybe he’d jerk off at the sight of you impaled on my cock, listening to those breathy little moans you make when I fuck you hard.”

Dean swallowed, wondering how much of the dirty talk was because of the compulsion and how much was John, then deciding he wasn’t inclined to complain either way. “Fuck me, then,” he growled, squeezing his ass around John’s fingers and smirking at the sharp intake of breath behind him. “Hard and fast, remember?”

John withdrew his fingers and lined his cock up at the prepared entrance. “That what you want, boy? For me to fill you up and fuck you hard?”

“Yeah,” Dean breathed, pushing his ass out further. 

John pushed inside in one long stroke, only pausing briefly when his balls brushed against Dean’s ass before setting up a hard, fast rhythm just like he’d promised. One hand reached around to find Dean’s cock already hard and he chuckled breathlessly as he began to stroke it in time with the thrusts into Dean’s ass. In a matter of minutes, they were both coming, Dean’s ass clenching around John’s cock and pulling him over the edge with him.

“Fuck,” John breathed as he came down. He pulled out carefully and tucked himself in as Dean straightened and pulled his pants up.

“That was even better than I’d imagined,” John said. 

Dean turned to face him as he tucked himself in and zipped his pants. “Yeah?” he queried, knowing John was obviously still in the ‘zone’ as he called it and deciding it was probably best to play along.

“Yeah,” John said absently as he looked at the mess they’d made of the hood. “But that’s definitely not good for the paint.” 

Dean snorted and got back in the car, watching through the windshield as John used a rag to clean off the hood. Once they were back on the highway, he leaned against the door, closing his eyes and allowing the hum of the engine to lull him to sleep.

When they stopped again, Dean was surprised to open his eyes and see they were at a motel instead of stopping for breakfast. Looking over at John, he asked, “Is it back already?”

John winced. “No, but I thought you’d appreciate the chance to change before we eat.”

Dean grimaced as he moved and felt the cooled come where it had leaked out of his ass. “Yeah, you thought right.”

Once inside the room, Dean went into the bathroom to clean up before choosing the closest thing he had to a clean pair of jeans and pulling them on. “We’re going to have to do laundry,” he said, scrunching up his nose as he rolled the soiled jeans and stuffed them into the bottom of his bag.

“Yeah,” John agreed. “The bar doesn’t open until later so we can find a Laundromat after we eat.”

Dean glanced at him. “We don’t both need to go,” he said, “you can stay here if you want.”

“If it hits while you’re gone, we don’t know what I might be like by the time you get back,” John pointed out grimly.

Dean nodded. “Yeah, OK,” he said as his stomach growled loudly.

John smirked. “Come on. There’s a restaurant just down the road.”

~~~

Though it was closer to lunch time, Dean was glad to see the small restaurant offered an all-day breakfast and ordered eggs with sausage and toast, smiling a little when John ordered the same.

“So,” Dean said, once the waitress had left them alone. “What’s this possible poltergeist been doing, exactly?”

John opened the laptop and pulled up the pages he’d saved earlier before pushing it across the table to Dean. “The usual. Breaking things, screwing with the electricity, moving things around.”

Dean read the pages and smirked. “And they passed all this off as a prank?”

John grinned. “Apparently, the owner has friends who are just the type to pull that shit.”

Dean snorted. “With friends like that…”

“Yeah,” John agreed as the waitress brought their food.

After they’d eaten, they went back to the motel and gathered their laundry, packing it into the car and heading for the Laundromat the waitress had told them about. Dean loaded the washers and started them up while John scanned the corkboard there with various notices and business cards tacked to it. The lone attendant behind the counter paid them no notice whatsoever.

Dean glanced at the large sign that read it was strictly prohibited to leave belongings unattended and rolled his eyes. He’d never figured out why anyone would want to steal someone else’s laundry but he guessed it must happen for it to be such a common sign in Laundromats across the country. “Looks like we’ve got a couple of hours to kill,” he said, turning to his father. “Did you bring the cards?”

John turned away from the bulletin board with a small frown. “What?”

Raising his eyebrows, Dean repeated the question.

“No,” John said, clearing his throat and handing the laptop to Dean, “but I’m sure you can find something to entertain yourself with for a while. I’ve got something I need to do.”

He was turning away when Dean grabbed his arm. “Something?” Dean asked pointedly, keeping his voice low. He could feel the heat even through John’s jacket.

John shook his head. “Not that,” he said. “It’s just … something I really need to do.”

Dean reluctantly released his hold. “Ok,” he said, warily.

John offered him a smile that was probably supposed to be reassuring but looked more apologetic. “It’s part of the compulsion,” he admitted in a low voice, “but not _that_ part, not yet.”

“How many parts are there?” Dean asked, frowning in disbelief.

John clenched his jaw. “Look, if I don’t do this now, I don’t know what it’ll make me want to do later.”

Dean remembered what had happened the last time John had refused to do something it was compelling him to do and he shuddered slightly, whether from the memory of the rough fuck or punching his dad, he wasn’t sure. “Yeah, OK,” he finally said.

“I won’t be long,” John assured him as he left the Laundromat. 

Dean glanced at the attendant who was frowning at him, apparently having noticed them engaged in hushed conversation but not knowing what it was about. Offering a small but reassuring smile to the young man, Dean took a seat and opened the laptop. 

True to his word, John returned less than half an hour later. “Everything OK?” Dean asked.

“Fine,” John said tightly. He noticed Dean’s concerned frown and sighed. “Really.” He grasped Dean’s wrist to prove that he was telling the truth.

“Oh,” Dean said, obviously surprised by the lack of heat in John’s touch. “Good.” He looked at John for a moment, debating whether or not to ask him what he’d had to do before deciding against it. John would have told him, if he’d wanted him to know, and if he didn’t, nothing Dean said was likely to change his mind. The washers stopped and Dean turned to them, transferring the clothes to a couple of dryers and getting them started. 

“I brought the cards,” John said, pulling a deck from his pocket.

Deciding that he’d worry about whatever it was later if he had to, Dean took out the cards and began to shuffle.

 

End of Part 5


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay on this one. I honestly thought I'd posted it nearly a week ago. Thanks for the feedback, Maya!

The bar offered half-price drinks during happy-hour, so John and Dean weren’t surprised to find it moderately busy, even though it was late afternoon in the middle of the week. Settling on a couple of the barstools, they waited for the perky blonde behind the polished mahogany to take their order.

“Hey,” she said with a bright smile, once she’d finished serving another customer. “You boys are new here.”

“Just passing through,” Dean said with his most charming smile. 

“Well, welcome to Sal’s. If you’re only going to stop in one bar in Cramden, you made the right choice. What can I get you?”

“A couple of beers,” John said.

“Whatever you have on tap is fine,” Dean added.

“Coming right up,” she said with a saucy wink in Dean’s direction. 

As she turned away to get their drinks, Dean couldn’t help checking her out. She was just his type and he knew he’d probably be trying to get to know her better if he was there alone.

“Keep it in your pants,” John muttered under his breath. “We’re just here for information.”

Dean shot him a surprised look before the blonde was back with two frosty mugs. “Try this,” she said, placing them in front of the men. “It’s from a microbrewery not too far from here.”

“Thank you, darlin’,” Dean said as he raised the mug and took a large swallow. “Hey, that’s not half-bad.”

“Thought you might like it,” she replied with a knowing smile. “I have a knack for knowing just what a customer might like.”

“Is that a fact?” Dean drawled, returning the smile.

“We’re actually looking for the owner, a Sal Pemberton,” John said, interrupting the flirting.

“Well, you found ‘er,” she said, holding out her hand. “And you are?”

“John Winchester,” John said, returning the handshake. “This is Dean.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Dean,” she said with a coy smile as she shook his hand as well.

“Trust me, the pleasure is all mine,” Dean said, smiling. “So, you own this place.”

“I do,” she said with a nod as she looked around the neatly kept establishment. 

“We were reading an article about some trouble you were having,” John said, getting straight to the point. 

Her smile faded a little as her eyes darted back and forth between them. “What’s it to you?”

“Let’s just say we’re in the business of investigating strange things,” Dean said with a smile.

“Are you cops?” she asked warily.

“Do we look like cops?” Dean asked, one eyebrow climbing.

She seemed to consider that for a moment as she studied them both.

“Have you experienced anything else besides what was in that article?” John asked. “Flickering lights? Cold spots?”

She frowned. “How did you know that?”

“It’s not the first time we’ve seen this type of thing,” Dean replied. 

“The cops around here think it’s somebody I know playing a prank,” she informed them.

“Is that what you think?” Dean asked.

She looked at them both again before shaking her head. “I have some friends with a strange sense of humor,” she admitted, “but they wouldn’t do something like this.”

“Can you tell us what, exactly, has been happening?” John asked.

She considered that for a moment. “I can do better than that, I can show you.” After gesturing for the other bartender to take over, she led them toward a door in the back of the bar that opened to a small corridor. On one side were restrooms, on the other was one door with signage that read ‘supplies’ and another that read ‘office’. Unlocking the office door, she ushered them inside before closing the door behind her. “I showed this to the police,” she said, unlocking a desk drawer and retrieving a CD. She popped it into the computer and hit a few buttons before turning the screen so they could see it. “But they said it wasn’t a criminal matter.”

John and Dean watched the screen as the recording began to play. It showed the interior of the bar and the timestamp in the bottom corner read 4 am. For the first few minutes, nothing happened, but then the emergency exit light flickered a few times before the bottles behind the bar began to move, seemingly of their own accord. By the time the activity on the screen stopped, everything behind the bar had been rearranged in exactly the opposite order as it had been in the beginning.

“That would be some prank,” Dean said flatly.

“The cops thought it was all done with wires or something. I tried to tell them that there were no wires the next morning, but they brushed it off, saying whoever did it must have removed them.”

“But the place was under surveillance at all times?” John asked.

She nodded. “We had some trouble a couple of years ago,” she said reluctantly. “I had the cameras installed after that and they run constantly.”

“And there were no blocks of time unaccounted for on the discs?” Dean asked.

She shook her head. “When I pointed that out to the cop who was investigating, he said it was easy to doctor recordings.”

John rolled his eyes.

“Tell me about this trouble you mentioned,” Dean said. “We read someone was killed?”

She winced a little. “Charlie Farnham.”

“Did you know him?” John asked. “Personally, I mean.”

“We went to high school together,” she said. “He used to ask me out a lot but…” she shrugged. “I didn’t see him for a few years after that. He went away to college, I think. He came back a couple of years ago and started coming in on a regular basis.”

“Causing trouble?” John asked.

“Not trouble, exactly,” she said. “He made it clear he was still interested, I made it clear I still wasn’t and I thought that was the end of it. He still came in after that, but he’d just sit in the corner and brood for the most part. It creeped me out but there wasn’t anything I could do about it. I considered asking him to find another place to hang out but… well, I never got around to actually doing it.”

“What happened?” Dean asked sympathetically.

She sighed. “One night some guy was hitting on me. It’s an occupational hazard for female bartenders.”

“More so for good-looking ones, I’d suspect,” Dean said with a smile.

She smiled back but it was subdued. “A woman behind the bar is good for business.”

“So you get your fair share of attention from male customers,” John surmised. “How was this guy different?”

“He wasn’t, not really,” she said, shaking her head. “He’d had a few but he wasn’t drunk.” She snorted. “He was persistent, though. I guess he found it hard to believe that I wasn’t swept off my feet by his corny lines.” She sighed. “It wasn’t anything I hadn’t dealt with before and I brushed it off but Charlie didn’t like it and after a while, he confronted the guy.”

“And there was a fight?” Dean asked.

“Not an actual knock-down, drag-out or anything like that,” she said. “Charlie told the guy to leave me alone, the guy, Pete something, told Charlie to mind his own business. They went back and forth like that for a minute but then Charlie pulled a knife. This Pete guy hit him and Charlie fell against the bar.” She grimaced. “When he hit the floor, the knife was sticking out of his throat and there was blood gushing everywhere. We tried to stop the bleeding, but by the time the paramedics got here, it was too late.”

“I’m sorry,” Dean said sincerely.

She nodded her thanks. “There were enough witnesses that no one was charged, but a camera would have saved a lot of time when they were trying to determine what happened. I had them installed right after Charlie died.”

“Is that when the strange things started happening?” John asked.

She shook her head. “Not right away. It was probably a year or so later that it started. Just small things at first. I’d find something in one place when I could clearly remember putting it somewhere else. There was the occasional cold spot, like you mentioned, and sometimes the lights would flicker but that was about it. It wasn’t until recently that it started escalating.”

“Do you remember the date Charlie died?” John asked.

She frowned. “It will be two years next week, the 15th. Why? Do you think that has something to do with what’s going on?”

“Believe it or not, it’s possible,” Dean said.

Her eyes widened slightly. “You mean like a ghost? You think my bar is _haunted_?”

“Do you have a better explanation for what’s on that disc?” Dean asked, nodding toward the computer.

She seemed shocked for a moment before shaking her head. “No.”

“What you’re describing sounds like poltergeist activity,” John informed her. “This Farnham guy obviously had unfinished business, namely his obsession with you.”

“Not that he didn’t have awesome taste,” Dean said with a kind smile, “just poor judgement.”

“Will it get worse?” she asked before frowning in alarm. “Could he hurt someone?”

“Not if we stop him first,” John told her. “Any idea where Farnham’s buried?”

She nodded absently. “Considering he died here, I felt it was only right that I attend the funeral. He’s at Mount Hope on the West side of town.” She frowned again. “Why? What are you going to do?”

“You don’t need to worry about that,” Dean said, knowing she’d probably be horrified by their plan to salt and burn the body. “The important thing is, you shouldn’t have any more trouble once we take care of it.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly. “So what do you charge to ‘take care of it’?” she asked, making air quotes with her fingers.

“We don’t charge for what we do,” John assured her with a small smile. “It’s more of a mission than a business.”

“Though we wouldn’t say no to a free beer,” Dean added with a grin.

She returned it. “If you can stop this crap from happening, you can drink here free for as long as you’re in town.” Her gaze flickered down Dean’s body and back up suggestively. “And I don’t mind saying, I hope that’s at least another day or two.”

“We’ll check back with you once we’ve done what we need to do,” John said shortly. “Come on, Dean, let’s go.”

Dean gaped at John as he left the office before turning his attention back to Sal with an apologetic smile. “You’ll have to excuse him. Poltergeists make him cranky.” He extended his hand. “Thank you for the information. Like he said, we’ll be in touch.”

She shook his hand, then reached over to her desk and picked up a card. “My cell number’s on here if you need to contact me when the bar’s closed,” she said, handing it to him with a smile. “You know, for more information or … whatever.”

“Thanks,” he said, taking the card and glancing at it before putting it in his pocket with a provocative smile. “I’ll do that.”

By the time he got to the car, John was already behind the wheel with the engine running.

“Awesome people skills,” Dean quipped, rolling his eyes.

“There’s no law that says you have to hit on everything that moves,” John grumbled as he pulled out of the lot.

Dean grinned. “She hit on me first.”

John snorted. “She probably heard you drooling when her back was turned.”

Dean cocked an eyebrow at him. “Are you jealous? I mean, she’s a little young for you, but we could go back, see if she has an aunt or something.”

“Watch your mouth, boy,” John said, his tone threatening with no hint of humor.

“I was kidding,” Dean said on a chuckle. He eyed John critically for a minute. “What’s the matter with you? Is it the curse?”

“Not everything’s about the fucking curse,” John shot back.

Dean reached out and touched John’s arm, cocking an eyebrow when John shrugged it off. “Like Hell it isn’t,” he said. “You’re burning up.”

“Mind your own fucking business,” John growled.

Dean’s anger began to rise in the face of John’s bad temper. “Since I’m your only shot at breaking it, I’d say it _is_ my fucking business.”

John glared at him. “No one’s holding a fucking gun to your head.”

“You don’t think so?” Dean challenged angrily. “You think I’m in this for the thrill of your cock in my ass?”

The words seemed to surprise John for a second but then his jaw clenched. “No, I don’t think that. I just wish I hadn’t dragged you into this.”

“You didn’t,” Dean pointed out. “The bitch that cursed you did. And for the next three days, there’s jack shit we can do about it so stop with the fucking pity party and quit being such an asshole.”

“We don’t have to wait for the full moon,” John said grimly. “We can stop this now if that’s what you want.”

Dean sighed wearily, most of the anger dissipating in the face of their limited choices in the matter. “That would be a death sentence,” he said. “You can be annoying as Hell sometimes, but you don’t deserve that.”

John huffed a sound of skepticism as he pulled into the parking lot of the motel. “I think the jury’s still out on what I do and don’t deserve,” he said.

“Yeah, well, I don’t need the extra guilt,” Dean said, undoing his seatbelt. “So let’s just get through the next few days and with any luck you’ll be alive to do whatever the Hell you want to do after that.” 

John didn’t respond as they got out of the car and let themselves into the room. After throwing his jacket on the bed and kicking off his boots, Dean headed for the bathroom. “I’m taking a shower.” He was in the smaller room with the door closed before John had finished throwing the deadbolt and checking the salt lines.

A few minutes later, Dean was standing beneath the warm spray, trying to let it wash away some of the irritation he still felt. Closing his eyes, he went over the recent argument in his mind. The fever hadn’t been present when they’d arrived at the bar, or even when they’d entered Sal’s office. It had obviously started sometime between then and the time John left since it was burning pretty strong by the time Dean joined him in the car. Had it been Dean’s harmless flirting with Sal that had set it off? Or was it just a continuation of the fever that had started in the Laundromat before John had left and returned with it mysteriously gone? Thinking back, Dean couldn’t remember it ever leaving before they’d fucked. It lasted longer than it did in the beginning, but it never left until John had satisfied whatever compulsion it was generating, or until he’d lost control and fucked Dean in lieu of whatever it had wanted him to do. So why had it been gone when he’d returned to the Laundromat? What had he done to relieve it that didn’t involve Dean? And if he could do that, why the Hell had Dean gotten involved in the first place?  
The questions went around in his head until the water began to cool and he quickly soaped himself up and rinsed before turning off the spray. Grabbing a towel, he dried himself and wrapped it around his waist as he stepped out of the shower. 

He wiped the steam from the mirror above the sink with one hand and stood staring at his reflection for a long moment, thinking back on the choices he’d made. He didn’t regret doing what he’d done. If he hadn’t made the first move, he was pretty sure John would have resisted it until it killed him and Dean would never regret changing that outcome. Which didn’t do much to explain why he suddenly felt so irritable about the whole thing. Maybe it was a delayed reaction to the predicament they’d been put in. Maybe it was the fear that it wouldn’t work, that John could still die despite everything they’d done.

Or maybe it was the gnawing suspicion that John would leave as soon as it was over and for all intents and purposes, Dean would lose him anyway.

“Yahtzee,” he whispered to his reflection as he realized that was exactly what had been bugging him.

He knew it was a real possibility, had probably known it from the beginning but he hadn’t wanted to think about it. It was obvious John hated what he was doing, hated _himself_ for having to do it. But, unlike Dean, he had no control over it. He was cursed. Dean was doing it willingly, even enjoying it to a certain extent. John had to know that, and to someone like him, that was probably as repulsive as anything the curse was making him want to do. Once he was free and clear of it, could think rationally about everything that had happened over the previous week, he probably wouldn’t want to be in the same _state_ as Dean, let alone the same room.

But that ship had sailed. John would live and Dean would know, even if John never wanted to think about it again long enough to acknowledge it, that he was alive because of choices Dean had made. He could live with that. What he _couldn’t_ live with was the idea of John dying because Dean didn’t do enough to save him. And if Dean got some awesome sex out of it, that was the least he deserved after some of the shitty hands fate had seen fit to deal him. It’s not like he was getting off _because_ it was his father, merely that he wasn’t bothered by that detail the way most people would be. Sex was _supposed_ to feel good and if it was what he had to do to save John, why shouldn’t he enjoy it? The ones making the rules about what was and wasn’t morally acceptable had likely never been faced with the decisions hunters had to make on a regular basis. Let one monster live and doom countless innocents to certain death; kill or be killed; fuck or die. The average person had no right to judge when they didn’t know what was out there, didn’t know the kinds of evil that the Winchesters and other hunters protected them from. 

But it wasn’t the average person’s judgement he was worried about, it was John’s. He’d let his dad fuck him in front of every single person they knew without batting an eye if it would save his life, but the idea of John hating him for it terrified him to his core. Shaking his head in resignation, he reached for his toothbrush.

After leaving the bathroom, he was about to head for his bag to get clean clothes when John grasped his arm and turned him, pinning him to the wall from behind before Dean realized what was happening. Closing his eyes, he waited to see what John had planned.

“You still mad at me?” John murmured in his ear while pressing his clothed body against Dean’s.

“I’m not mad,” Dean said truthfully. “I know you can’t control it.”

“You called me an asshole,” John reminded him, though his tone was more amused than accusing.

Dean huffed a laugh. “Yeah, well, apparently you can’t control that either.”

John chuckled, pressing his hard dick against Dean’s towel-clad ass. “I want to fuck you right here, against the wall.”

Dean pushed his ass back against John’s cock. “So, do it.”

“Put your hands together above your head,” John instructed. Once Dean had complied, John pinned both wrists to the wall with one hand while the other pulled the towel from around Dean’s waist and tossed it aside. “Leave them right there,” he said, referring to Dean’s hands.

Dean nodded once, his forehead brushing the wall. When John released the grip on his wrists, he left his hands right where they were.

John opened his jeans and took out his hard cock. Grabbing the lube, he slicked himself with one hand before tossing the bottle aside. Using his left hand to once again pin Dean’s wrists to the wall, he pushed the index finger of his right hand slowly into Dean’s hole, stroking it in and out a few times before adding a second and leaning close to murmur in Dean’s ear. “Spread your legs a little wider”

Dean did as instructed, widening his stance and pushing his ass back as John’s fingers found his prostate.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” John asked, not really expecting an answer. After massaging the prostate for a moment, he added another finger and continued to stretch Dean for a couple of minutes before withdrawing his hand and positioning his cock at the prepared hole. “Oh yeah,” he breathed as he pushed in, “so fucking tight.” He withdrew slowly and then pushed back in hard enough that Dean rose up on the balls of his feet. “That’s it,” John said as he repeated the movement, groaning appreciatively. “I love fucking you like this. I can get so deep, lifting you up on your toes.” He set up a long, steady rhythm. “Bet I could lift you right off your feet, couldn’t I?” he asked with a particularly deep thrust that had Dean rocking up on his toes. “How would you like that? Hanging in mid-air, impaled on my cock?”

“Fuck,” Dean breathed. His cock was hard from the earlier prostate stimulation but the dirty talk seemed to hit his buttons every damned time.

“You want to touch yourself, don’t you?” John asked.

“Yes,” Dean replied, his voice gruff with arousal. 

“Too bad,” John whispered in his ear, his grip on Dean’s wrists tightening. 

Dean whimpered as John began fucking him harder, going impossibly deeper with each thrust. 

“You want to come, you’ll have to fuck the wall,” John said, pushing Dean flat against the wall as he continued to fuck into him.

Dean gasped as his cock slid up the wall with every thrust. The friction of the faded wallpaper was just enough to send him crashing over the edge after a few minutes.

“Like a fucking vice,” John growled as Dean’s ass clenched around him. After a couple more strokes, John followed him over, emptying himself into the tight channel. Instead of pulling out once he was spent, he ground his hips against Dean’s ass. “You feel so good.” After one more shallow thrust, he slowly pulled out and released Dean’s wrists.

Dean leaned against the wall for a few seconds while he caught his breath before picking up the towel and cleaning himself up. He pulled a pair of clean boxers out of his bag and pulled them on before flopping onto the bed with his eyes closed.

“You OK?” John asked quietly after a couple of minutes.

Dean opened his eyes and turned his head to look at his dad. “Yeah,” he said, studying the other man’s features. “You?”

John nodded curtly. “Fever’s gone,” he said, “for now.”

Dean sat up and swung his legs over the other side of the bed so that he was facing John. “What happened when you left the Laundromat earlier?” he asked, unsure when he’d get another chance.

John sighed but didn’t answer for a moment. “I had to go buy something,” he finally said in a quiet voice.

Dean frowned at the embarrassed look on his dad’s face before he grinned. “So much for ‘I’ve never paid for sex’ huh?”

“What?” John said, frowning in confusion before scowling. “No, that’s not what I meant.”

“What, then?” Dean asked.

John seemed to be inwardly struggling with something before he answered. “Something from the adult toy store,” he finally said with a hint of disgust in his tone.

Dean blinked once before he snickered. “Seriously? What did you do, use it in the car?”

“Of course not,” John said frowning.

“You must have done something. You were fine when you got back,” Dean pointed out. He grinned. “Does it take batteries? I hear there are models that can grip you nice and tight, just like a real woman.”

John rolled his eyes. “It wasn’t anything like that.” He took a deep breath. “It was something to use on you,” he added quietly.

The smile faded from Dean’s face. “Oh.”

“But buying it seemed to do the trick,” John hurried to add. “There’s a good chance I’ll never have to actually use it.”

Dean frowned. “If it’s a fucking bullwhip or something like that, I can tell you right now you won’t be using it. Not on me, anyway.”

John’s eyes widened slightly before he, too, frowned. “Do you seriously believe I’d use a bullwhip on you? Curse or no curse?”

“How the Hell should I know what it’s telling you to do?” Dean asked.

“It’s a dildo, OK?” John said, abruptly. “I was hoping I’d never actually feel compelled to use it and I didn’t see any point in telling you if that was the case. It was bad enough that I felt the uncontrollable need to buy it in the first place.”

Dean swallowed. He’d never once entertained the idea of a fake cock in his ass and he wasn’t sure how he felt about the prospect. It definitely didn’t appeal to him, but he didn’t want to do anything that would nullify everything they’d already done to break the curse. “I, uh…”

“Can we just not talk about it and hope it doesn’t come up again?” John asked, his tone bordering on desperation.

“Yeah, OK,” Dean agreed with a small nod.

John looked at him for a moment, part of him wanting to know what Dean was thinking, part of him not. “You going to be up for that salt and burn later?” he asked, effectively changing the subject.

Dean glanced at his watch. “Yeah, sure. It should be dark in a couple of hours or so.” He looked at John again. “Movie?”

John nodded with a small smile. “Sure, why not.”

~~~

It was nearly 2 am by the time they’d finished salting and burning Charlie Farnham’s corpse and they didn’t bother going back to the room afterward, having packed up everything earlier. They never stuck around after something like that, just in case somebody saw them and made a connection between the two strangers in town and the grave desecration that would no-doubt be reported to the police at some point. 

“We’ll stop and get a room in the next town,” John said as he drove. “We could both use some sleep.” 

“Sounds good,” Dean agreed. “I’ll call Sal in a day or so, see if anything weird happened after we lit the guy up.”

John shot him a sidelong glance. “You know I don’t really have a problem with you flirting, right? That was just the curse.”

Dean studied his profile for a minute. “I know you were under the influence when you were being all pissy in the car,” he allowed, “but the crack about keeping it in my pants was all you. I brushed against your shoulder when we went into her office and you didn’t have the fever then.”

John’s hands tightened a little on the wheel. “It pissed me off,” he said.

“What did?”

“The way you were looking at each other,” John admitted irritably. “I don’t know why, exactly, but it did.”

Dean nodded thoughtfully before turning his head so that he was looking straight ahead. “OK,” he said.

They were silent for a minute before John spoke again. “Just like the crack you made about me doing whatever the Hell I want once this is over.”

When Dean looked over again, John was staring straight out the windshield. “That pissed you off?” he asked

John clenched his jaw. “If you’re thinking I’m going to bail on you first chance I get, yeah.” He waited a beat before meeting Dean’s gaze briefly. “Unless you decide you don’t want me around after this.”

“Not gonna happen,” Dean said without hesitation. “But you’re the one who’s cursed. You don’t know how you’re gonna feel when it’s all over.”

“I’ll feel like I always have,” John said sincerely. “You’re still my son, nothing’s ever going to change that.”

Dean knew that much was true but that didn’t mean John wouldn’t change his mind about wanting to hunt with him. Knowing they’d have to wait and see when the dust settled, he nodded again. “Good to know.” After stretching his arms as much as he could in the confines of the car, he leaned against the passenger door and closed his eyes. “Wake me when we get wherever we’re going.”

~~~

Dean woke up automatically when the car stopped. 

“I’ll go in and get a room,” John said, before getting out of the car.

Dean looked out the window at the illuminated sign and laughed. He was still chuckling to himself when John returned to the car a few minutes later. “A hick town in the middle of nowhere that’s actually _called_ Pissant?” he said. “Seriously?”

John chuckled. “The irony appealed to me. And, according to the night-clerk with no sense of humor whatsoever, it’s pronounced pee-SONT.”

Dean snorted. “Yeah, that’s better,” he said sarcastically.

Once inside the room, John sighed. “I’m beat,” he said wearily.

“You should have let me drive like I offered,” Dean said as he quickly salted the door and window.

“You’re already doing enough,” John said, grabbing a pair of sweats and heading for the bathroom. “I’m calling first shower, though.”

~~~

A couple of hours later, Dean was awakened by the sensation of someone grasping his wrist. He immediately began to struggle, intensifying his efforts once he heard the soft ‘snick’ of a handcuff being locked into place.

“Calm down, Dean,” John said as he pressed the younger man back and straddled his thighs. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

It took a couple of seconds for John’s voice to penetrate Dean’s panic and he stopped struggling, breathing heavily while his sleep-muddled mind took stock of the situation. “Dad?” he said, his voice rough. “What the Hell?”

John sat atop him, each of his large hands restraining one of Dean’s wrists on either side of the prone man’s head. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he repeated.

Dean clenched his hands into fists, feeling the padded cuff locked securely around one wrist and the heat that radiated from John’s body. “You scared the fucking shit out of me,” he accused. 

“Sorry,” John said, his throaty chuckle belying the apology. “I needed to restrain you and I know how much you hate that.”

Dean swallowed. He did hate it but, under the circumstances, he would have gone along with it if he knew it was something John needed to do. “You could have just asked,” he grated.

“Where would the fun be in that?” John asked, his eyes twinkling mischievously. “Now, are you going to keep fighting me if I let go of you?”

Dean pressed his lips into a tight line, taking a couple of deep breaths before closing his eyes briefly. “No,” he finally managed.

“Good,” John murmured. He relaxed his hold on Dean’s wrists, taking the one that was already secured and raising it above Dean’s head until he could slide the other end of the cuffs between the slats in the headboard. Raising Dean’s other hand, he fastened the open cuff around his wrist. “There,” he said quietly, his hands stroking down Dean’s outstretched arms before he got off the bed. Pulling back the covers, he tugged off the sweats Dean had been sleeping in and stood back to admire the long, lean body stretched out before him. “Are you comfortable?”

Dean gritted his teeth. “About as much as I can be,” he said.

John nodded, obviously satisfied with the response. “Good.” Without another word, he went to his bag and began rummaging around, returning a moment later with a bottle of lube and a plastic bag. 

Recognizing the logo on the bag as one used by a chain of adult stores, Dean licked his lips nervously. “What are you going to do?” he asked, hoping his voice sounded stronger to John than it did to his own ears.

“I never really get to appreciate watching you fall apart,” John said conversationally as he placed the bag at the bottom of the bed and proceeded to arrange Dean’s legs the way he wanted them, knees bent, feet planted on the mattress far enough apart that John had a good view of Dean’s ass. He frowned a little before reaching over to the other bed and grabbing a pillow. Sliding it beneath Dean’s hips, he continued making adjustments until he was satisfied with the result.

Dean could feel the heat rising in his cheeks as John positioned him, his ass raised slightly, his legs apart, his hole on display. He shivered slightly as John’s feverish gaze traveled slowly over his handiwork once he was done. 

“This way, I’ll be able to watch you when I make you come while my head’s still clear enough to enjoy the sight,” John said.

Dean scoffed in disbelief at the thought of John doing _any_ of this with a clear head. Before he had a chance to say anything in response, John leaned over and kissed him lightly. 

“Just relax and enjoy,” John said with a small smile. “I’ll make it good for you, I promise.”

Dean exhaled shakily, steeling himself for what was to come. “Yeah, OK,” he said reluctantly.

As though he’d been waiting for permission, John’s smiled widened and he moved to the bottom of the bed to grab the bottle of lube. After slicking the fingers of one hand, he knelt between Dean’s legs, one finger circling his hole a couple of times before slowly pushing inside. 

Dean's tense muscles seemed to relax of their own accord as John gently stroked his prostate with the lone digit. After a few minutes, John added another finger and began scissoring them inside the tight channel, stretching Dean’s body to accommodate what he had planned.

“Need to get you nice and ready for our new toy,” John murmured as he added yet another finger. 

Dean tried to regulate his breathing as the three fingers moved inside him. His cock was hard from the stimulation to his prostate but his mind was busy trying to quell the panic rising within him from the anticipation of what John still wanted to do and the way Dean was restrained.

“Shhh,” John soothed, using his free hand to stroke Dean’s hip in a calming manner as though reading his mind. “You’re OK. You know I’d never hurt you.”

Trying to force himself to relax, Dean let out a long breath. “I know,” he finally managed to whisper.

John withdrew his fingers after a few more minutes and reached for the bag, pulling out the black dildo he’d purchased. 

Dean watched as John lubed the toy, relieved that it didn’t look overly huge like he’d been imagining. It was bigger than John’s cock, but not the baseball bat that Dean’s mind had been conjuring images of.

“Take a deep breath,” John instructed as he placed the tip of the glistening toy at Dean’s entrance. Once Dean complied, he added, “Now let it out.” He pressed the fake cock in slowly as Dean did as instructed, stopping when the head popped inside and elicited a surprised gasp from the man beneath him.

“That’s it,” John murmured in encouragement. He gave Dean a moment to get used to the feel of the foreign object in his ass before he began to rock it in and out, going deeper with every stroke. “So fucking hot,” John breathed, watching as another inch of the toy disappeared inside Dean’s body. “Black was a perfect choice. It looks amazing against your skin.”

Dean cried out, fisting his hands around the headboard’s slats as the unyielding toy pressed against his prostate.

“Almost there,” John assured him. “Just a few more inches.”

Dean clenched his eyes shut, pressing his head into the pillow as the fake cock continued to fill him.

“Fuck,” John breathed a minute later when the whole thing was inside Dean, only the base sticking out. “That’s fucking hot. How does it feel?”

“Full,” Dean grunted, trying to relax around the intrusion.

John chuckled. “I’ll bet.” He pulled it out slowly until just the head remained inside before pushing it back in to the hilt. “I wish you could see this, the way your ass just swallows it up.” He continued stroking it in and out a few times before angling it a little and raking it over Dean’s prostate.

“Fuck!” Dean gasped at the pleasurable sensation.

“That’s the idea,” John said, chuckling again. “I’m going to fuck you with this until you come. Can you do that, Dean? Can you come on just this fake cock without me touching yours?”

“I don’t know,” Dean gasped as the toy continued to work in and out, stroking his prostate on every thrust.

“Oh, I think you can,” John said as he pushed the fake cock in all the way and held it there, unmoving, putting just enough pressure on Dean’s prostate to frustrate but not enough to allow him to come. “But not yet.”

He left the toy in Dean’s ass and stroked his hands up Dean’s body until his face hovered above the one beneath him. A lone tear leaked from the corner of Dean’s eye and John brushed it away with a gentle smile. “No one has ever seen you like this,” John murmured, his gaze taking in every inch of Dean’s face. “All those women, the men. You show them such a small part of you, even when you’re fucking them.” He brushed a finger down Dean’s cheek. “Open your eyes,” he instructed quietly.

After a brief hesitation, Dean did as instructed, slowly opening his eyes to meet John’s gaze.

“Yeah,” John said, smiling, “that’s it. The part of you nobody else gets to see. Wanting this but not wanting it. Wishing it was anybody else giving it to you, but knowing that nobody else can, because nobody knows you the way I do.”

“Please,” Dean whispered, not even sure what he was asking for.

John moved back down between Dean’s legs and began fucking the fake cock in and out at a steady pace. “I want you to come for me,” he said, “I want you to fuck yourself on this thing until you’re coming all over yourself.”

Grabbing the headboard, Dean began pushing his hips forward to meet every thrust, his breath catching in his throat when John changed the angle so that his prostate was being stimulated with each stroke. They went on like that for what seemed like hours, sweat dripping into Dean’s eyes as he reached in vain for his orgasm. Just when he was about to beg John to touch his cock, John bent his wrist, pressing the toy against his prostate hard.

“Fuck!” Dean cried out as his orgasm was ripped from him.

John continued to fuck him through it, his movements slowing and then stilling once Dean was spent. Gently, he pulled the dildo from Dean’s ass and opened his jeans, pulling out his cock and pressing Dean’s knees forward as he rocked into the sated body. “Still so fucking tight,” he grunted as he began fucking him fast and hard. “Loved watching you come undone for me,” he growled. “So fucking perfect.”

Dean whimpered at the over-stimulation to his prostate but after a few hard, deep thrusts, John was coming, emptying himself into Dean’s body.

John stayed buried in the hot channel while he came down, his hips moving lazily, his hands stroking Dean’s thighs. After a couple of minutes, he sighed and pulled out. He got off the bed and tucked himself in while Dean stretched his legs. 

Dean frowned when John pulled the covers over him and sat down on the side of the bed before reaching for the handcuffs and unlocking them. Taking one of Dean’s wrists in his hands, he massaged the area briefly before moving to work the kinks out of Dean’s arm. 

“You don’t have to do that,” Dean said after swallowing once. “I’m OK.”

John met his gaze, his expression a mixture of sadness and concern as he released Dean’s arm. “Are you? I know that was hard for you.”

Dean pulled himself up until he was sitting against the headboard. “I’m fine.” He was uncomfortable with the way his dad was looking at him and he cleared his throat nervously. “Question is, are you?”

John huffed a wry laugh. “Yeah, I’m good.” He was silent for a moment and Dean was about to get out of the bed for a much-needed shower when he spoke again. “I meant what I said, Dean. I know you better than anyone.”

“Ok,” Dean said warily.

“The sex really doesn’t bother you,” John continued. “I get that. What’s tearing you apart is thinking that I’ll be disgusted with you later, that I won’t be able to stand being around you.”

Dean was shocked that John’s words so closely echoed the fears he’d admitted to himself earlier.

“I know I’m being an asshole taking advantage of how vulnerable you feel right now but that’s the one time I think you might actually hear what I’m saying,” John said, meeting his gaze head-on. “At this moment, my head is as clear as it’s ever going to be and I’m telling you, I’m _glad_ if you’re able to enjoy any part of this. I don’t think you’re a freak or a pervert or anything else that’s running through that head of yours. It actually _helps_ me to know that this past week hasn’t been just one long, unending torture for you.”

Dean took a moment to let that sink in. “It hasn’t,” he admitted, “but even if it had been, the end result would have been worth it.”

John grimaced a little. “The fact that you feel that way probably shouldn’t make me feel as good as it does,” he said. “While I admire your willingness to do whatever it takes, you shouldn’t have to sacrifice yourself for me or anybody else.”

“And I’m not,” Dean pointed out. “I said no to the bullwhip, didn’t I?” His words got the desired reaction when John barked a surprised laugh.

“Yeah, you did,” John allowed with a slow nod.

"Besides, I’m not the only one sacrificing here,” Dean said. “You were ready to walk when we found out what we’d have to do.” He smirked a little. “And I might look good but I know that seeing me take off my clothes wasn’t what changed your mind.” 

“You’re wrong, that’s exactly what changed my mind,” John said quietly. He rolled his eyes at the surprised look on Dean’s face. “You know damned well how good you look, but that’s not what I meant.” He met Dean’s gaze seriously. “I know the strength and courage it took for you to strip down in front of me the way you did. How was I supposed to turn my back on that?” 

Dean didn’t know what to say to that and John obviously realized it because he smiled, patting Dean’s leg once before getting off the bed. “Give me a minute to clean up and then, while you’re in the shower, I’ll go grab some breakfast.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Dean said. 

John took the dildo into the bathroom with him and emerged a few minutes later to stuff it into the bottom of his bag before grabbing his keys, offering Dean a small smile, and leaving the room.

Once he was gone, Dean got out of the bed and headed for the bathroom, John’s words still echoing in his head

End of part 6


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to Maya for her feedback. :) All mistakes are mine and mine alone. Sorry about the delay but I had some rewriting to do. The next part should be up within the week. Enjoy!

Dean had showered, dressed and was perusing articles on the internet by the time John finally returned.

“pee-SONT my ass,” John grumbled as he set a delicious-smelling bag and a tray of coffee on the table. “This is a pissant town if ever I saw one.”

Dean snickered as he moved the laptop aside and reached for the bag. “They don’t offer the breakfast cuisine to which you’ve become accustomed?” he teased.

“Get this,” John said irritably. “The town council actually passed a by-law banning take-out food of any kind.”

“That’s…” Dean frowned as he tried to think of the right word, “crazy.”

John nodded. “Apparently, they think it’s better for town morale if people congregate and eat together rather than taking food home to eat in front of the TV.”

“Don’t most people cook their own food at home and eat in front of the TV anyway?” Dean asked, pulling the wrapped items from the bag.

John snorted. “Probably, but don’t tell the town council that.”

“How did you get this, then?” Dean asked.

John smirked. “The same way you got that extra piece of pie at that diner a couple of weeks ago.”

Dean chuckled. He wasn’t above using his flirtatious charm with the waitresses they encountered on the road. A couple of weeks ago it had earned him an extra slice of pie. A couple of days later, it had paid off with an even sweeter reward in the form of a cute blonde. “At least I got useful skills from you, not like that emo-shit you passed on to Sammy.” He opened the waxed paper to reveal a sandwich, two thick slices of toast with bacon, egg and cheese between them. “Looks awesome.” He took a large bite and moaned appreciatively. “Tastes even better.”

John bit into his and had to agree.

“So,” Dean teased, once he’d swallowed. “Is that what took you so long? Or was breakfast all you got?”

John snorted. “I don’t have your affinity for quickies in a diner bathroom.”

Dean shrugged. “Any port in a storm and all that.”

They ate in silence for a moment, each enjoying the food. Once Dean was done, he crumpled the wrapper into a ball and tossed it back into the bag. “So, any plans from here?”

John finished his sandwich and reached for his coffee. “The poltergeist thing was easy enough, despite our current situation. I say we look for the next hunt.”

Dean grinned, turning the laptop so John could see it. “I was hoping you’d say that. I think I found something. Two guys in Fullerton recently killed their wives. No real marital problems that anyone knew of, they just came home one day and offed the person they supposedly loved out of the blue.”

“Any other connections?” John asked as he read the article.

Dean nodded. “They both frequented a local bar and grill called Blondie’s. During the interrogations, each guy said he’d met a woman there but that he hadn’t planned on anything more than a couple of drinks and friendly conversation.”

“Yeah, right,” John snorted. 

“Both guys chatted up this woman, bought her a few drinks and then left, alone,” Dean added.

“Same woman?” John asked, clicking to the second article.

“Not according to the reports,” Dean said. “The descriptions are totally different.”

John looked at him. “You’re thinking a Siren.”

Dean nodded. “She reads his mind, knows exactly what he likes and appears to him as his dream woman. Both of these guys insist they weren’t looking for anyone, that she seemed to just command their attention. It all fits.”

“Their venom glands are in their mouth,” John pointed out. “These guys weren’t infected by friendly conversation.”

Dean smiled wryly. “They both gave the same story. She kissed them, they rebuffed her further advances and high-tailed it home to their wives.”

“But by then they’d already been infected. By the time they got home, they would have believed that they were in love with the Siren and that they’d have to kill their wives to prove their love to her,” John mused thoughtfully.

“Once they do that, she gets bored and moves on to the next poor bastard. Without more of the venom, the effect eventually wears off and her victims are left to deal with what they’ve done.” Dean concluded.

John sighed. “Sometimes the monsters who actually feed on humans seem easier to deal with than the ones who are just in it for the thrill of the kill.”

“Fullerton’s about a six hour drive,” Dean said. “We could stake out the bar, see if anything catches our eye.”

“We’d need the blood of one of her victims to take her out,” John pointed out. “The ones they already have in custody won’t have enough of the venom left to be effective.”

“If she’s still in the area, she’s bound to pick another victim first chance she gets,” Dean said.

“Then I guess we’re off to Fullerton,” John said, closing the laptop.

~~~

 

They were halfway to Fullerton with Dean behind the wheel when John started to fidget in the passenger seat.

“Want me to pull over?” Dean asked, “Stretch your legs a bit?”

“It’s not my legs that need the workout,” John grumbled.

Dean snorted. “Want me to find a motel, then?”

“I’m not paying for a motel in the middle of the day,” John groused. “Just keep going, I’ll be fine.”

Ten minutes later, John cursed under his breath. “I think you need to find a spot to pull over,” he said, his voice tight. “Preferably one out of sight of the main highway.”

“Is it bad?” Dean asked, glancing at him with a frown.

“Strong,” John replied, “but I’m not out of my mind with it. Not yet, anyway.”

Knowing it was going to be one of _those_ times if Dean didn’t pull over soon, he took the first road off the main highway and the first dirt road that led off of that, ignoring the ‘no trespassing’ sign. Not wanting to pull off the road and take the chance of the car getting stuck in the marshy grasses that lined it, Dean simply stopped the car once they were out of sight of the turnoff.

Without a word, John reached into the glove compartment for a bottle of lube and the back seat for a blanket before getting out of the car. Dean followed his lead and watched as John spread the blanket over the warm hood, wondering why it was necessary when they hadn’t used it last time. 

Dean smirked as he remembered John’s previous complaint. “Saving the paint job?”

“More like saving your ass,” John said, a hint of amusement in his tone. “Lose the pants and hop up.”

Dean cocked an eyebrow at him. “Just like that?”

John smirked. “I’ll buy you dinner later.” 

Shaking his head with a chuckle, Dean bent to quickly loosen the laces on his boots before toeing them off. “You’re just lucky I’m easy.” He undid his jeans and pushed them down his legs, along with his boxers, before stepping out of them. Picking them up, he put them on the hood of the car before hopping up to sit on the blanket.

John stepped between Dean’s knees and kissed him lightly. “Hottest hood ornament ever,” he teased.

Dean snorted as he reached for John’s belt buckle. “Unless you want to be the hottest felons ever, we should probably get this show on the road, no pun intended.”

“Public sex isn’t a felony,” John pointed out as he opened his pants and pulled out his cock. 

“We get caught, public sex will be the least of our problems,” Dean said as he leaned back on the hood and bent his knees.

John slicked his fingers with the lube and quickly prepped the other man before coating his cock and positioning it at Dean’s hole. “Then I guess it’s a good thing we’re going to have a lawyer in the family.”

Dean barked a surprised laugh and John used that moment to push inside in one long thrust, smirking as Dean’s laughter turned into a throaty moan. After giving Dean a moment to adjust, he set up a steady rhythm, reaching to stroke Dean’s cock in time with his thrusts.

“Christ,” Dean gasped, his hands clutching at the blanket while John worked him inside and out. The heat from the car beneath him combined with the unnatural warmth of John in the grip of the curse made him feel as though he was melting.

Between his hand and his cock, John had Dean coming in short order, spilling his own seed when Dean’s ass clenched around his cock just the way he liked it. “You’re way too fucking good at this,” he breathed as he came down from the high.

Dean snorted. “You’re the one doing all the work.” He winced a little as John pulled out, then allowed his father to help him sit up.

“You OK?” John asked with a small frown.

“Fine,” Dean said, taking a corner of the blanket to clean himself off before sliding off the hood and reaching for his clothes. 

“You must be sore,” John said, watching him closely as he tucked himself in.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” Dean assured him as he pulled on his boxers and jeans before slipping into his boots and bending to tie them. “What about you?”

“Better,” John said with a nod. He looked around. “We should probably get out of here, though.”

They got back in the car, John behind the wheel, and made their way back onto the main highway.

They drove in silence for a while before Dean spoke. “You ever dealt with a Siren before?”

“Yeah,” John said. 

Dean turned to look at him. “Were you infected?”

John shook his head. “No, but Caleb was.”

Dean’s eyebrows climbed. “Really?”

“It was part of his plan. He got infected intentionally so that we could use his blood to kill her.”

“That sounds fool-proof,” Dean said sarcastically.

John chuckled. “The part where he got infected went according to plan. The rest, not so much. He didn’t take into account that, once he was infected, he’d be less inclined to drive a bloody dagger into her chest.”

“What happened?” Dean asked.

John sighed. “He tried to kill me, thinking I was standing in the way of his one shot at true happiness.”

“Even though he knew what she was going in?” Dean asked.

“Even though,” John said with a nod.

“But you obviously ganked her in the end,” Dean surmised.

“I had to stab Caleb in the arm to get his blood, but yeah, it did the trick.” He smirked. “As soon as she was dead, he was no longer under her spell but then he was twice as pissed, not because he still thought I was trying to steal his woman but because I’d stabbed him.”

Dean chuckled. “Knowing Caleb, he got over it pretty quick.”

“By the time we got back to Bobby’s, he was willing to let me stitch up his arm.” John grinned. “Once I was done, he punched me in the face, called us even and we celebrated a successful hunt over a couple of beers.”

Dean chuckled. “Yeah, sounds about right.”

John shot him a sidelong glance. “Don’t go getting any ideas. There’s no way in Hell either one of us is getting infected intentionally.”

“Any other time, I might consider it,” Dean admitted, “but not with something as unpredictable as this curse already in play.”

“Let’s just hope we can kill this bitch before anybody else dies,” John said grimly as he focused on the road ahead.

~~~

Once in Fullerton, they got a room and Dean called Sal to check in on her situation. “Seems we were on the money with Charlie Farnham,” he told John after he’d ended the call. “The security tapes showed some activity around midnight but it stopped abruptly at 1:10 am.”

John nodded. “The same time we were torching the corpse.”

“Yep,” Dean agreed. “One less poltergeist to worry about.”

“Let’s just hope this Siren is as easy to take out,” John said.

“You worried?” Dean asked with a casual smirk.

“Of course I’m fucking worried,” John spat. “The last thing I need right now is something else making me do things I don’t fucking want to do.”

“Whoa,” Dean said, surprised at the outburst. He frowned as he studied John’s flushed features, knowing he hadn’t looked like that a few minutes ago. “That came on quick.”

“Sometimes it takes hours, sometimes a lot less,” John grated, “but like I said, when it hits, it hits hard.”

“So what happened to just doing what you have to do without getting all bent out of shape about it?” Dean asked.

“Damnit, Dean, I’m trying to give you a break, here. I know you’re sore, I could see it back there at the car.”

Dean moved closer until he was standing right in front of the other man. “I don’t need a break,” he said firmly. “What I _need_ is for you to survive this and you won’t if you don’t let it run its course.” He reached out and cupped John’s hard dick through his jeans. “So what’s it going to be this time? Hard and fast? Long and slow?”

John groaned as Dean squeezed his painfully hard cock. “Hard and fast,” he growled. “With you on your hands and knees. Naked.”

Dean smirked before turning away and walking toward the bed. After pulling off his clothes, he crawled onto the center of the mattress in the position John had indicated. He could hear John behind him, unzipping his pants and opening the lube. Seconds later, a slick finger was at his hole, pushing in slowly.

“Your hole is all red and puffy,” John murmured, “and I can still feel the load I left in there earlier.”

It was obvious from John’s words that he was past the point of being able to control what he said or did and Dean went with it. “Then you know I don’t need a lot of prep this time around,” he said, pushing his ass back, “so fuck me already.”

John chuckled. “Gonna pound this ass so hard, but not until I make you come. I want to hear you whimper every time my cock slams inside you when you’re too sensitive to take it.”

“Fuck,” Dean breathed, marveling at how hard he could get from just a few words. He gasped as John added another finger and began working his prostate relentlessly, pushing him to the edge and over in less time than Dean would have thought possible.

“That’s it,” John murmured as Dean shot his load onto the garish bedspread. “Give me all you’ve got.”

The orgasm had hit him so hard and so fast that Dean collapsed onto his forearms once he was spent, only John’s strong hands keeping him on his knees with his ass in the air. Before he had a chance to come down from the dizzying high, John was pushing his cock in with one hard thrust. Much to Dean’s embarrassment, he _did_ whimper at the first hard stroke against his over-sensitive prostate.

“That’s what I want to hear,” John said as he pulled out and slammed in again.

Dean clutched at the bedspread, a strangled gasp being torn from his throat with each hard thrust. After what seemed like an eternity but was probably only a few minutes, John slammed home one last time, groaning as he emptied himself into the pliant body beneath him.

“Fuck, that was good,” John breathed as he came down, his cock still buried in Dean’s ass. After a few lazy thrusts, he pulled out, patting Dean’s ass once before getting off the bed and tucking himself in.

Dean stretched out on his stomach and took a moment to get his breathing under control before rolling off the bed and getting to his feet. “I’m going to get cleaned up,” he said as he made his way to the bathroom. 

John was standing in front of the window when Dean returned. “Sorry about that,” he said sheepishly.

Dean snorted as he pulled on a clean pair of boxers and the jeans and shirts he’d taken off earlier. “Don’t be.” He smirked at the other man before reaching for his socks and boots. “But that dinner you’re buying better include pie.”

John smiled a little as he headed for the bathroom. “I’ll make sure it does.” After relieving himself and washing his hands, he rejoined Dean in the other room. “You ready to go?”

“I should be asking you that,” Dean said. 

John sighed. “We don’t’ know when it’ll hit again,” he said, “but we do know someone else will end up dead if we don’t stop her.”

Dean knew he couldn’t argue that. “Yeah.”

“We’ll leave if it becomes a problem, all right?” John offered.

Dean studied him for a moment. The flush was gone from John’s skin, indicating he was free of the curse’s grip for the time being. Knowing that was the most he could hope for under the circumstances, Dean nodded. “All right.”

~~~

By the time they got to Blondie’s, it was nearly six pm and there was a wide range of people in the establishment. There were at least four families having dinner, a table of men in business suits with drinks and another with four young women obviously celebrating something. Three men sat at the bar alone, a blonde woman sat at a small table engrossed in one of those electronic books and a curvy red-head sat alone at a small table in the corner.

Neither Dean nor John had missed the looks they were receiving from the four women but no one else seemed to pay them any mind.

“Why do I suddenly feel like we’re on the half-price rack at a shoe store?” Dean murmured as the women continued to watch them and whisper to one another as they took a seat at the bar. 

John chuckled. “They’re not exactly subtle, are they?”

“Hey, what can I get you?” the bartender asked with a smile as he approached.

“Two beers,” John said, “whatever you have on tap.”

“Sure thing,” the guy said with a nod as he began drawing one mug and then the other. “Don’t think I’ve seen you in here before.”

“We’re just passing through,” Dean said, casually glancing around the bar. “Busy place.”

“We do OK,” the man said as he put the two beers in front of them. “Can I get you anything else?”

“Maybe later,” John said, paying for the drinks.

“All right. The name’s Brian. If you decide you want to look at a menu or something, just give me a shout.” With that, the man moved down the bar to refill one of the other men’s drinks.

“Could be the blonde or the red-head,” Dean said once the bartender was out of ear-shot.

John glanced at the mirror behind the bar. “They can alter a human’s perception of them but their true form would show in a reflection. Unfortunately, I can’t see either of them in the mirror.”

Dean pulled out his phone. “They’d also show on camera,” he said, angling his phone and inconspicuously snapping a photo of the left side of the room. Looking down at it, he smirked. “The blonde’s as gorgeous as she looks,” he said, deleting the picture before angling the phone the other way in an attempt to get the red-head. “Can’t get the other one from here,” he said.

“By accident or design, I wonder,” John said grimly.

When Brian returned to check on their drinks, Dean flashed him a smile. “Hey, Brian, I was wondering, do you know who the red-head in the corner is?”

Brian shook his head. “Never seen her before today.” He offered a knowing smile. “But I know what she’s drinking if you want to send one over to let her know you’re interested.”

Dean chuckled. “Thanks, but no thanks. She looks like someone I used to know and that’s one trip down memory lane I’m not anxious to take, if you know what I mean.”

“Gotcha,” Brian said with a grin and a nod. “As long as you’re sitting at the bar, she probably won’t notice you. She’s been here close to three hours, went straight to that table and hasn’t moved since.” He shrugged. “She seems nice enough, though.”

“Yeah, they always do,” Dean said with a smirk. “Thanks a lot.”

Once Brian had left again, Dean turned to John. “What do you think?”

“Sounds like she could be our culprit,” John said. “We still need to see her true form to be sure, though.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket and pretended that he’d just received a call. “Hold on,” he said into the phone, “I can’t hear you.” He gestured toward the door with his head. “I’m just going to take this outside.”

Dean watched his dad leave, snickering as John tilted his phone at an odd angle just before he went out the door. He was back a moment later. 

“Sorry about that,” John said, knowing Brian was close enough to overhear. “Business call.”

“No problem,” Dean said, glancing in Brian’s direction. 

Once Brian moved further down the bar to serve another customer, Dean looked at his dad.

“She’s the one all right,” John said, sliding his phone over to Dean.

Dean looked at the photo and wrinkled his nose. “Damn, that’s fugly.”

John snickered as he deleted the picture. “Yeah. But identifying her is only half the problem. We still need the blood of one of her victims to kill her.”

“If she’s been here three hours and hasn’t found what she wants yet, we could be in for a wait,” Dean said.

John grinned. “We just might have time for that dinner I promised you.”

“And pie,” Dean reminded him as they got up. Dean raised his glass in Brian’s direction, then nodded toward a table not too far from where the red-head was sitting, but not close enough to make her suspicious. 

Brian nodded and signaled for a waitress to take menus to the two men. After they’d ordered, they sat back to wait for their food, knowing there was a good possibility they wouldn’t get a chance to actually eat it. They kept a casual eye on the red-head in the corner, taking note of how she seemed to study each person who walked into the establishment, especially those who were alone, before dismissing them. People who walked in with someone else barely got any notice at all

“Pretty particular, isn’t she?” Dean asked, once the waitress had brought their food and left them alone again.

John snorted as he cut into his meat. “More like she’s waiting for an easy target.” He glanced around at the other patrons. “You can bet she got a good read off every person in here before they even stepped through the door, including us.”

Dean swallowed what was in his mouth before asking, “You think she knows why we’re here?”

“She might if she cared enough to look that close. Chances are, she’s just getting a feel for personality types. Someone who’s more prone to suggestion doesn’t just make for an easier target, but for a more satisfying aftermath. A weaker willed person will suffer more for what they end up doing.”

Dean smirked. “You calling Caleb weak?”

“Caleb was different,” John said on a chuckle. “Once we knew what she was, he went after her, pretty aggressively as a matter of fact.”

“That, I would have loved to see,” Dean said with a grin.

They continued keeping an eye on things while they ate, noticing that they were still getting more than their fair share of attention from the table of young women. “You sure those four are normal?” Dean asked, “because that’s bordering on creepy.”

John snorted. “I don’t know how normal they are, but they appear to be human, at least.” He smirked at Dean. “Since when do you find attention from a pretty girl creepy?”

“Since they started traveling in packs,” Dean said as he finished his food and pushed the plate away. “There’s more going on there than just casual attraction, trust me.”

John cocked an eyebrow as Dean pulled the piece of pie in front of him. “And that assessment is based on…?” he prodded.

Dean took a bite of the pie and briefly closed his eyes in appreciation. “Based on years of experience on both sides,” he said with a smirk. The levity faded from his expression as he noticed the red-head seem to come to life. “Check this out,” he said, gesturing with his eyes.

John casually glanced over and saw that the woman had gone from looking bored to rather seductive. A few seconds later, a man entered and glanced in her direction only to do a double-take once he saw her.

“Yahtzee,” Dean breathed, taking another bite of his pie.

They casually watched as the man sauntered over to her table and asked if he could join her. Though she still looked like a red-head to them and probably everyone else in the place, they knew the newcomer was probably seeing something totally different, a willowy blonde, an athletic brunette, whatever he found most appealing.

When Dean had finished the pie, the waitress cleared the table and asked if they needed anything else before leaving their bill. John pulled out his wallet and left enough money to cover it along with a reasonable tip, as they watched the red-head and her new companion flirt with one another for a few minutes before she leaned over and whispered something in his ear. The man’s eyes widened slightly before he grinned like he’d just won the lottery and then nodded.

“Show time,” Dean said as the woman got to her feet and began making her way toward the back of the restaurant where the restrooms were located.

Once she disappeared through the door, the man she’d been sitting with got up to follow and John and Dean waited until he’d reached the door before they, too, headed in the same direction.

As soon as they went through the door, they saw the man against the wall in the dimly lit corridor, the woman’s tongue down his throat.

Dean gestured toward the door with his head and John nodded. Drawing the bronze dagger from the sheath clipped to his belt beneath his jacket, Dean casually walked toward the men’s room, leaving John to guard the door should anyone else walk in. As Dean approached the couple who was engrossed in their impromptu make-out session, Dean dragged the tip of the knife down the man’s arm where it wrapped around the woman’s body.

“Hey!” the man cried out, pulling his arm back and staring at the thin trail of blood.

The woman turned to Dean with a ferocious snarl but Dean plunged the blade into her heart before she had a chance to do or say anything. Briefly, her true form was revealed to them before she burst into a cloud of ash.

“What the Hell was that?!” the man exclaimed in horror. He’d seen the grotesque form and began wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Are you OK?” Dean asked, trying to get a feel for whether or not there was still any compulsion there that could prove dangerous to the wife he probably had at home.

“OK?” the guy demanded. “No, I’m not OK, I feel like I need a fucking Silkwood shower! What the Hell _was_ that?”

“Let’s call it a cautionary tale,” John said as he joined them. He glanced pointedly at the man’s wedding ring. “One you probably won’t want to tell your wife about.”

The man’s eyes widened as he looked from John to Dean and back again. “This isn’t what it looks like. I don’t… I mean, I’ve never … I _love_ my wife.”

“Then you should probably go home before you get yourself into some real trouble,” Dean suggested. He nodded at the guy’s arm. “Looks like she scratched you pretty good.”

The man looked down at his arm as though seeing it for the first time. “That … that _thing_ scratched me?” he asked in horror as he looked at the long but shallow cut.

“Some disinfectant and a couple of band-aids, you’ll be fine,” John assured him grimly. “Trust me, it could have been worse.”

The guy nodded slowly as he struggled to take everything in. “Yeah.” He swallowed once. “I, uh… I should go.”

“Unlike the last one you had, that’s a smart idea,” Dean said with a smirk.

The guy paled and nodded once before hurrying through the door and most likely, out of the restaurant.

“That was a helluva lot easier than the last one,” John said, remembering the fight with Caleb.

Dean snorted. “And I even got to finish my pie.” He was about to open the door when two of the girls from the celebratory table came through from the other side.

“Oh!” one of them exclaimed upon nearly colliding with the two men. “I’m sorry. We thought you’d left.”

Dean cocked an eyebrow in question and she blushed. “I mean, not that we were looking for you or anything, we just …” She sighed. “I’m sorry. They were trying to talk me into asking you something and by the time I got up the nerve, we thought you were gone.”

“You wanted to ask us something?” Dean asked, shooting his dad an ‘I told you so’ look over the girl’s shoulder.

“Yes. I mean, no!” the girl stammered. “I mean, not both of you, just …” He cheeks were a bright pink as the words trailed off.

Dean looked at the other girl with raised eyebrows. “Translation?”

The girl laughed lightly. “It’s Amber’s birthday,” she said, nodding at her friend. “It’s something we’ve done since college. Each year, the birthday girl gets one task she has to complete before her next birthday, sort of like an ongoing cross between a scavenger hunt and truth or dare.”

“OK,” Dean said, obviously confused. “What does that have to do with us?”

The girl looked at her friend before taking a deep breath. “She has to kiss a handsome stranger and she only has until midnight,” she said hurriedly.

Dean frowned slightly and looked at John. 

After taking out his phone and looking at both girls through the viewfinder, John shrugged with a smirk.

“You want to kiss me,” Dean said, looking at Amber.

“It didn’t sound like a big deal when I got my task,” Amber said, obviously embarrassed, “but I know most of the people around here and the strangers I do see, I just …”

“She chickens out,” her friend finished for her with a grin. “We keep telling her she needs to expand her horizons.”

“We probably sound like a couple of lunatics,” Amber said with a forced laugh. “I’m sorry we bothered you.” Grabbing her friend’s arm, she pulled her in the direction they’d come from.

“Well that was weird,” Dean said, once he and John were alone in the corridor.

John snorted. “A Siren just exploded in a cloud of dust and you think _that_ was weird?”

Smirking, Dean opened the door and followed his dad through it. As soon as he caught sight of the table of women, he paused briefly before walking over to them. Taking Amber’s hand, he pulled her gently to her feet and smiled. “Happy Birthday,” he said quietly. Wrapping his arms around her, he kissed her deeply, ignoring the gasps of delight from the other three girls at the table. 

When he released her, she slowly opened her eyes to stare at him in shock for a second before shaking her head slightly. “Wow, I … thank you.”

In keeping with the stranger vibe, he didn’t say anything else, he just winked at her, nodded at the other ladies at the table and turned toward the door where John was waiting for him with an amused grin. Nodding in the direction of Brian, who was also grinning, Dean left the restaurant with his dad.

“You just can’t ignore a damsel in distress, huh?” John teased as they walked to the car.

“You know what they say,” Dean countered with a grin, “it’s a tough job but somebody’s gotta do it.”

~~~

Once back at the motel, Dean pulled off his jacket and the sheath clipped to his belt. “So what do you say, we stay here tonight and look for our next gig,” he said as he removed the rest of the weapons he carried and placed them on the table. “If we find something, we can head out first thing in the morning.” Dean could sense his dad standing behind him and turned when the other man didn’t answer. The first thing he noticed was the unnatural, yet familiar, heat radiating from John’s body, the second was the expression on his face. It wasn’t the feral one Dean sometimes saw when John was in the grip of the curse, it was softer, affectionate even. Dean’s pulse quickened as he licked his lips, watching his dad’s eyes track the movement. “You have something else in mind?” he asked quietly.

John smiled a little and took a step closer, reaching up to cup Dean’s face with one hand. “I want to kiss you.”

Knowing it was likely the kiss with Amber that had triggered this particular compulsion, Dean went with it. “You’re hardly a stranger,” he said with a smirk. 

John moved even closer until there was no discernible space between them. “That just makes it better,” he said quietly before leaning in to claim Dean’s lips with his own. It started out almost tentative, only deepening when Dean’s lips parted beneath his. Pulling Dean into his arms, he kissed him soundly, his tongue exploring every inch of Dean’s mouth. After a moment, he pulled back with an amused smile. “You taste like apple pie.”

Dean snorted. “That’s what you get for not giving a guy a chance to brush his teeth first.”

“Oh, I’m not complaining,” John said as he pulled him into another kiss, even longer and deeper than the first

Dean returned it in kind, his hands on John’s back in an attempt to pull him even closer. He reveled in the fact that John was a damned good kisser. The curse might be able to make him _want_ to do it, but it had no control over the skills his dad obviously possessed.

By the time the second kiss ended, they were both breathless. “Let’s take this to the bed,” John murmured, pulling Dean’s shirts up and over his head before taking off his own. He then went to work on his jeans and was naked by the time Dean even got his boots off. 

Dean finished undressing and slipped into the bed John had opened. John got in from the other side and pulled Dean into his arms without hesitation. They merely looked at one another for a moment, arms wrapped around one another, legs tangled together beneath the sheets. It was Dean who made the first move, bringing his lips to John’s in a deep, sensual kiss. 

“I could do this for hours,” John breathed, between kisses.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Dean whispered in reply.

It probably wasn’t hours, but they stayed like that for a long time, alternating between deep, soul-searing kisses and quick, playful nips. Dean’s cock was flushed hard with arousal and he moaned deep in his throat as he undulated his hips and his heated member stroked against John’s equally turgid length.

Shifting his weight, John rolled until he was atop the other man, one leg lodged between Dean’s, his dripping cock rubbing against Dean’s thigh. “Wanna get off just like this,” he murmured, leaning in to kiss Dean again as he rutted against Dean’s leg.

Dean moaned and pulled the other man closer, riding John’s leg as they traded heated kisses. They rubbed against each other harder and faster until Dean was clutching John’s back and coming between their close-pressed bodies.

John moaned into the kiss as he, too, flew over the edge, his cock erupting against Dean’s flushed skin. Even while their movements slowed and then stilled, he never stopped ravaging Dean’s mouth. “That was fucking fantastic,” he breathed against Dean’s lips.

Dean kissed him again. “Yeah.” They continued kissing lazily as they came down, the come cooling on their sweat-slicked bodies. 

Eventually, John rolled to the side, his breathing still slightly labored whether from the exertion or the kissing, he wasn’t sure and didn’t care. “Stay here,” he said as he rolled out of the bed and went into the bathroom, returning a moment later with a warm washcloth. He gently cleaned Dean off before running the cloth quickly over his own body and tossing it aside. Getting back in the bed, he kissed Dean again and pulled the covers up over them. “You should try to get some sleep,” he said quietly.

In the close proximity, Dean could feel the heat indicating that John was still very much under the influence of the curse. Not knowing what the next few hours might bring, he knew it probably made sense to sleep when he could. “Yeah,” he agreed. He studied John’s expression for a moment, trying to glimpse a hint of what might be in store for them as the curse deadline approached. Seeing nothing but the same affection he’d seen there earlier, he closed his eyes and allowed the warmth of the body next to him to lure him to sleep.

End of part seven


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks, once again, to Maya for her feedback. :)

When Dean woke up, the room was dark and he was alone in the bed. Propping himself up on his elbows, he looked at the other bed to see that one was also empty and then noticed his dad sitting at the table, the glow from the laptop lighting his features. “What time is it?” he asked, his voice rough from sleep.

John looked up from the laptop. “A little after 2.”

“What are you doing?” Dean asked.

“Looking for another hunt,” John said as he turned his attention back to the screen.

“In the middle of the night?” Dean asked.

John looked up at him again. “I think it helps if I keep busy.”

Dean digested that piece of information. “I doubt the compulsions will stop just because you’re on a hunt.”

“I know that,” John said irritably, regretting the tone as soon as the words left his lips. “But it gives me something else to think about,” he added. “Something I might have some control over.”

Dean pushed himself up to a sitting position and leaned back against the headboard. “So, did you find anything?”

John nodded, looking back down at the screen. “Maybe. A groundskeeper at a cemetery in Columbus, Montana went missing a few days ago. The next day, another man disappeared. He often took a shortcut home through the same cemetery, and yesterday, a young woman also went missing in the same town.” He looked up at Dean. “Her husband says she was running some errands which included putting flowers on her mother’s grave.”

“In the same cemetery,” Dean surmised.

John nodded. “I’m thinking maybe a ghoul.”

Dean frowned. “They usually eat people who are already dead.”

“Usually,” John agreed, “which is why they tend to live in graveyards, but they can feed on living humans as well.”

“What are the local cops thinking?” Dean asked.

“Possible serial killer,” John said, “even though they haven’t found any bodies and the victimology is all over the place.”

“Did they make the cemetery connection?”

“I don’t think so,” John said. “The groundskeeper, Joe Reed, worked there but lived alone so nobody is exactly sure when he disappeared within the period since he showed up for work one day and not the next. Shirley Barnett was running a number of errands and they’re not sure she even made it to the cemetery, and as for Simon Cooper, apparently a lot of people use that same shortcut.”

“Which could mean more missing people if it’s a ghoul who recently acquired a taste for living flesh,” Dean concluded. “I guess we’re off to Columbus. Did you want to leave now or wait until it’s light?”

John closed the laptop and crossed the room to sit on the bed beside Dean. “I don’t care how light it is, but I don’t want to leave now,” he murmured, leaning in to kiss Dean lightly.

Dean wasn’t sure if the fever was back or still there from the last time but there was no mistaking its presence with John sitting so close. “Considering the recent topic of conversation, should I be worried?”

“About what?” John asked, frowning.

“Goofing around about your age made you want to spank me,” Dean pointed out, “seeing me kiss that girl made you want to kiss me and now talking about flesh-eating ghouls has you all hot and bothered. I swear to God, you start gnawing on me and that’s it, curse or no curse.”

John chuckled. “I definitely have plans for this body,” he said, pulling back the covers to reveal more of Dean’s bare skin. He leaned in to kiss him again. “But they don’t include eating your flesh.”

“Or drinking my blood,” Dean clarified, though he really wasn’t worried about John suddenly developing ghoulish tendencies.

“Or drinking your blood,” John murmured as he trailed a line of kisses down Dean’s neck and across his shoulder.

Dean closed his eyes at the pleasant sensation of John’s lips on his skin. “So, uh… what kind of plans, then?”

John chuckled again and got to his feet, quickly divesting himself of the jeans and shirt he’d pulled on earlier. “I think it’s best I show you,” he said, as he climbed into the bed. He nudged Dean’s hip. “Get down here.”

Dean shifted down until he was once again lying in the bed on his back with John propped up on one elbow beside him. John leaned over, but just looked at him for a long moment that had Dean licking his lips in anticipation. “You just gonna keep staring?” he taunted. “I thought you had something you wanted to show me.”

“You and that mouth of yours,” John said with a hint of amusement. “Put your hands above your head.”

“What, no cuffs?” Dean asked with a smirk.

John cocked an eyebrow at him. “Do I need them?”

Not liking to be restrained, Dean raised his arms over his head like he’d been instructed.

“Good, now leave them there,” John said. 

Since the headboard was flat with nothing to grab on to, Dean clutched the edge of the pillow and blew out a long breath. “OK,” he agreed.

Smiling, John leaned in to deposit a quick kiss on Dean’s lips before moving down to place a similar one in the middle of Dean’s chest. From there, he moved to one nipple, taking it between his lips and sucking gently before biting down with his teeth.

“Sonofabitch,” Dean gasped, his back arching of its own volition.

John chuckled, obviously pleased with the response. Taking the taut bit of flesh between his teeth, he bit down a little harder, encouraged by the way Dean’s body jerked beneath him. He continued to nibble at the hard nub, alternating the intensity of the bites, until it was standing erect, the sensitive flesh reddened from John’s ministrations. Satisfied with his work, he turned his attention to its twin on the other side of Dean’s chest. Dean let out a gasp at the first nip and then whimpered occasionally as John proceeded to torment the sensitive nipple with his teeth until it was in the same state as the other one.

By the time he was done, Dean was breathing heavily, his mind reeling with the combination of pain and pleasure. 

“I love how responsive you are,” John said, reaching out to tweak the nipples with his fingers and eliciting a sharp intake of breath from Dean. “Your nipples all red and swollen, your cock hard and leaking.” He tapped Dean’s knee lightly with one hand. “Bend your legs.”

Dean did as instructed, planting his feet on the mattress, his knees bent and apart.

John reached for the bottle of lube and then moved between Dean’s legs. After slicking his hands, he pushed one finger slowly into the puckered hole. “After all the sex we’ve had in the last week, you’re still so tight,” John murmured.

Dean didn’t think a response was expected so he closed his eyes and enjoyed the feeling of John’s finger sliding in and out in a lazy rhythm. When John added a second finger and began scissoring them, Dean pressed his head back into the pillow.

“Feel good?” John asked.

Dean opened his eyes and met the other man’s gaze. “Not half as good as it’s going to feel when you fuck me,” he replied with a smirk.

The words made John’s rhythm falter briefly, but then he chuckled before adding a third finger and twisting them inside Dean’s body.

“Fuck,” Dean breathed, his hips moving to fuck himself on the thick digits.

After a few minutes, John withdrew his fingers and added more lube to his hand to slick his cock. “Use your hands to pull your knees back,” he instructed.

Dean released his hold on the pillow and grabbed his knees, pulling them back and apart to reveal his hole to John’s gaze.

“That’s perfect,” John murmured as he lined himself up at the glistening entrance. With one long push, he was fully buried in the tight channel, eliciting a deep moan from the man beneath him.  
“This what you wanted?” John asked as he pulled out and pushed in harder. 

“Hell, yeah,” Dean breathed.

John set up a steady rhythm and Dean shifted his hips to meet every downstroke, moaning in appreciation when John grabbed his dick and began stroking it in time with his thrusts. Dean came first, being so thoroughly stimulated inside and out, and John followed soon after, pushing in to the hilt and holding himself there while he unloaded his release into the willing body.

Dean released his knees and stretched out his legs as John pulled out and rolled to lie beside him. “This is getting fucking exhausting,” John muttered as he waited for his breathing to return to normal.

Dean barked a surprised laugh even though he was still somewhat breathless himself. “Remember that next time you decide to piss off a witch with a sex fetish,” he said.

“Yeah,” John said regrettably. After a moment, he turned his head to look at Dean. “It won’t be light for a few hours yet and I’m good for the moment so you can get a couple more hours of sleep if you want.”

Dean grimaced distastefully at the idea of the come cooling on his stomach and leaking from his ass. “I slept enough. What I need is a shower.”

“Give me five minutes to clean up and I’ll see if I can find some coffee while you’re in the shower,” John suggested as he got out of the bed. “We can grab breakfast on the way to Columbus.”

~~~

They drove for two hours without incident before stopping at an all-night diner about halfway to Columbus. Once the waitress had taken their order and poured them each a cup of coffee, they discussed their plans for the case.

"The first thing we need to do is talk to the local authorities,” John said, taking a sip of his coffee.

“Yeah,” Dean agreed. “No point scouring the graveyard for ghouls if it turns out to be something else.” His phone vibrated and he took it out to look at the screen before smirking and sending a quick text in reply.

“Bobby?” John asked.

Dean nodded. “He’s been texting every day, just to make sure we’re both still alive.”

John snorted. “He’s the one who strongly suggested we stay as close to Sioux Falls as possible.”

Dean cocked an eyebrow. “That wasn’t your idea?”

“He’s the one who suggested it, but I agreed,” John said. He paused for a moment. “If anything happens, I hope you’ll go there.”

“Nothing’s gonna happen,” Dean assured him before frowning. “Unless there’s something you’re not telling me.”

John shook his head. “Since we figured out what happens when I try to resist, I’ve been doing everything it compels me to, I swear.”

Dean nodded once in satisfaction. “Then nothing’s gonna happen. Tomorrow’s the full moon and after that, you should be free of it.”

John wanted to point out that none of them knew that for sure, but he was pretty sure Dean already knew that. All they could do was hope there wasn’t some loophole they’d missed, that John wasn’t fated to die regardless of what he did or didn’t do during the duration of the curse. “Yeah, let’s hope so,” he said.

The waitress brought their food and conversation was halted while they ate. They were nearly finished when John’s face suddenly flushed and his jaw clenched.

“How bad?” Dean asked.

John shook his head slightly as though to clear it. “Side of the road ain’t gonna cut it,” he said grimly as he pulled out his wallet. “We need to get a room.”

“Before Columbus,” Dean clarified, though he was pretty sure he already knew John wouldn’t make it that far.

John nodded abruptly. “The sooner the better.”

Dean frowned in concern as John threw some money on the table and got to his feet. Following suit, he offered a polite smile to the waitress before heading outside behind his father. He took the keys John offered without question, taking note of the alarming heat from John’s skin. “It’s hotter than usual,” he stated as they got into the car.

“Yeah,” John agreed from the passenger seat. “My whole body feels like it’s going to explode.”

“Bobby said it would get worse as it got closer to the full moon,” Dean reminded him. He glanced over at his dad after pulling out onto the highway. “You sure you can make it to a motel?”

John nodded. “Yeah, just …”

Dean didn’t need to be told to hurry. Pressing down on the accelerator, he kept his eyes peeled for anything resembling a motel. To his relief, he spotted one after only a few minutes and he pulled in, leaving the engine running while he went in to get a room. When he got back, John didn’t look any worse, but no better either. “Hold on,” he said as he pulled the car up to the door of their assigned room and parked it. He handed John the key while he grabbed their bags from the trunk.

As soon as Dean dropped the bags to the floor, John was on him, pressing him up against the closed door and kissing him like both their lives depended on it. “I need you,” John whispered hoarsely, pulling Dean impossibly closer and kissing him again.

Dean returned it in kind, hoping to ease some of John’s apparent desperation. “It’s OK,” he managed between biting kisses as he clutched at the back of John’s jacket. “I’m right here.”

John pulled back a little, searching the green eyes almost frantically before seeming to calm a little. “Yeah,” he breathed, leaning in to kiss Dean deeply but not quite as urgently. “Yeah, OK.”

When John’s lips left his mouth to trail a line of bruising kisses down the side of his neck, Dean closed his eyes. “Want to move this to the bed before my legs give out?” he suggested. 

John rumbled a laugh against the skin of Dean’s neck before beginning to maneuver them both toward the nearest bed, his hands and lips never losing contact with the younger man. Once they were at the foot of the bed, John peeled off Dean’s jacket, shaking his head a little when Dean made a move to take off his shirts. “Let me,” he whispered.

“OK,” Dean consented, stilling his movements and allowing John to pull his shirts off over his head. 

“So fucking perfect,” John murmured, his hands mapping out every inch of Dean’s chest. 

Dean smirked. “Good genes, apparently.” He reached for John’s jacket. “Do I at least get to return the favor?”

John met his gaze and offered a crooked smile. “Yeah, go ahead.”

Dean removed John’s jacket and then began unbuttoning the shirt. “The fever’s gone down a little,” he said, relief evident in his voice.

“It’s only that bad until I start doing what I want to do,” John said.

Dean looked up from where his hands were working John’s buttons to meet his gaze. “And what’s that?” he asked as he opened the last button and slid the shirt off of John’s shoulders.

John pulled the other man close, their arms wrapping around one another as though by instinct, their bare chests pressed together. “I want to open you up,” John murmured breathlessly as he nipped at Dean’s bottom lip. “Then I want to warm that sweet ass before you ride me long and hard so I can feel the heat.”

“Christ,” Dean breathed, his cock twitching inside his jeans

“Tell me you want that too,” John said, his tone hinting at the earlier desperation.

“I want that too,” Dean said automatically.

John groaned and reached for Dean’s fly, hastily opening his jeans and freeing his hardening cock. “Tell me everything,” he said, stroking Dean’s cock with one hand, the other arm still holding Dean close. “Tell me you know exactly what I’m going to do to you.”

Dean licked his lips, finding it difficult to think while John stroked him to full hardness. “You’re … You’re going to open me up, then spank my ass until it’s warm so I can ride you and you can feel the heat,” he breathed, the words rushing out of his mouth.

“Long and hard,” John corrected with a squeeze to his cock that Dean felt in his toes.

“Long and hard,” he gasped. 

“Good boy,” John said with a kiss to Dean’s cheek as he stepped back, relinquishing his hold. “Get undressed and lie on your back.”

As Dean stretched out on his back, John removed the rest of his own clothing before climbing up on the bed and pulling Dean into a deep kiss. “Want this so bad,” he breathed.

“I’m beginning to see why the side of the road wouldn’t cut it,” Dean gasped as John reached down and stroked Dean’s cock again.

John chuckled and reached for the lube. “Bend your legs for me.”

Dean brought his knees up and spread them apart to make room for John between them.

John slicked up the fingers of one hand and circled Dean’s pucker once before pressing slowly inside. “Stroke yourself while I stretch you,” he instructed. “I want to watch.”

Dean grabbed his cock and began stroking but not in an effort to get himself off. He didn’t want to be too sated and sensitive for the rest of John’s plan.

“That’s it,” John murmured when he added another finger and Dean bit his lip. “You look so fucking hot like this.”

Dean moaned quietly as John stretched him, twisting and scissoring with the occasional stroke to his prostate. When John added a third finger, Dean squeezed the base of his dick. “I’m going to come if you keep that up,” he hissed.

John chuckled and, after twisting his fingers one last time, he withdrew them, wiping them on the bed. “Up on your hands and knees,” he said, “facing this way.” He got off the bed and watched as Dean positioned himself the way John had instructed. John didn’t miss the blush that rose in Dean’s cheeks when he caught sight of himself in the mirror on the opposite wall. “That’s right; I want you to watch while I spank you. You won’t be able to see your ass go from white to pink to red, but I want you to see every expression that crosses your face while it happens, every flicker of pain in those pretty green eyes, understand?” 

“Yes, sir,” Dean said quietly. 

John leaned down until his lips were at Dean’s ear. “I want you to see exactly how far you’ll go for me, how much you’ll take just to make me happy,” he whispered.

Dean could see his lips tighten into a thin line but he didn’t respond verbally. He wanted to point out that what they were doing had nothing to do with making anybody happy except maybe the sick fuck who’d cursed him in the first place and she was already dead. Not knowing how much logic would get through with John so obviously caught up in the curse’s influence, he decided to keep his mouth shut.

John positioned himself to one side and drew his hand back to deliver the first slap, watching the mirror. Dean winced a little, but didn’t take his eyes from his reflection. “That’s it,” John murmured, glancing down to see the handprint on Dean’s left cheek, then looking back at the mirror while he slapped the right one. Dean was biting his lip again and John moaned. “So fucking hot.”

Dean tried to measure his breathing as John delivered blow after stinging blow to his increasingly heated ass. Tears gathered at the corners of his eyes and he had no choice but to watch as one escaped to track down his flushed cheek.

“You look so good like this,” John said, Dean’s gaze meeting his in the mirror. “Your eyes sparkling with tears, your bottom lip red and swollen from biting it, your cheeks nearly as pink as your ass.” He squeezed the globes of Dean’s ass with both hands. “Ten more, and I want you to count them out for me.” Without delay, he pulled his hand back and delivered a stinging smack to Dean’s left cheek.

“One,” Dean said breathlessly, his body already tensing in anticipation of the next blow. He winced a little as the second one landed. “Two.” John increased the intensity with every strike of his hand and by the time he’d reached the end, Dean’s face was wet with tears. “Ten,” he practically sobbed as John delivered the final blow.

John ran his hands over the quivering red skin. “Perfect,” he murmured, “now up on your knees.” Once Dean had complied, John stretched out beside him on his back. “Straddle me,” he said, “then keep your eyes on the mirror while you lower yourself onto my cock.” Dean positioned himself over John’s body, his hands braced on the strong chest, while John lined his cock up with Dean’s prepared hole. “Nice and slow, now. I want you to feel every fucking inch.” 

Dean slowly lowered himself onto John’s cock, his gaze riveted to the mirror. He saw what John did, the glassy eyes, the flushed cheeks, his ass slowly being impaled on John’s cock, following his every instruction just like the good little soldier Sammy accused him of being. He huffed a mirthless laugh as he wondered what Sam would think if he could see him now.

“Something funny?” John asked, pinching one of Dean’s reddened ass cheeks and eliciting a gasp from the younger man.

Dean dropped his gaze to meet John’s, his expression hardening into a smirk as he was reminded that, while it might be his father’s face looking back at him, it was the curse and the witch behind it calling the shots. “No, not really,” he said, looking back at the mirror. He saw himself wince a little as his inflamed skin made contact with John’s body once he was fully seated. “Is this what you want?” he asked, clenching his ass around John’s cock. 

“Oh yeah,” John breathed, gripping Dean’s hips and rocking his own up into the warmth. “I can feel the heat.”

“You and me both,” Dean muttered.

“Now ride me,” John said, lifting Dean slightly with his hands. “And keep watching. I want you to know exactly what you look like when you come, knowing it’s my cock in your ass.” 

Dean kept his eyes on the mirror, watching himself as he moved up and down on John’s cock. His own had gone soft during the spanking but it grew steadily harder with the stimulation his prostate was getting.

“So deep like this,” John murmured, thrusting his hips up to meet Dean’s downward motion, causing Dean to moan as the length inside him drove impossibly deeper. “That’s it,” John encouraged as he circled Dean’s cock with his fist and began stroking it as he continued to thrust into the younger man’s body. “Grind your ass in my lap,” he instructed.

An embarrassing whimper escaped Dean’s lips as he ground his sore ass onto John’s dick. Despite the pain, the stimulation deep inside of him combined with John’s hand on his cock had him on the verge of coming. Just as he was about to tip over the edge, John’s hips stilled, his hand gripping the base of Dean’s cock.

“You want to come?” John taunted with a crooked grin.

“Fuck yeah,” Dean breathed, grinding his ass on John’s cock, oblivious to the stinging pain of his inflamed skin.

“Then you’d best get to work,” John said, releasing Dean’s dick. “Watch yourself in the mirror as you fuck yourself on my cock.”

Dean struggled to keep his eyes open as he watched himself, moving slowly up and down at first, but then beginning to bounce in an increasingly wanton manner once the need to come overruled any sense of embarrassment. Grabbing his own cock, he began to stroke it hard and fast as he worked himself closer to orgasm, finally coming with a long, drawn-out moan. He watched the whole thing unfold in the mirror, the flush colouring his chest and rushing up through his cheeks, the way his lips parted as he panted through the onslaught of sensation. It was open and raw and everything Dean tried so hard _not_ to see in himself. For a brief instant, there were no walls to hide behind and Dean felt exposed and vulnerable, two feelings he worked hard to avoid at all costs. 

“Fuck, yeah,” John breathed as he watched Dean’s cock erupt, milky come spurting out and oozing down over his fist. Grabbing Dean’s hips, he resumed his earlier movements, grinding up into the pliant body as Dean’s ass clenched around him at the height of his release. After three hard, deep thrusts, John was coming, holding Dean’s hips in a death grip as he shot his load into the hot channel. “Jesus,” he muttered. “I nearly came just watching you.”

Dean closed his eyes briefly, then carefully lifted himself off John’s body before collapsing on the bed next to him.

“Once we get cleaned up, we can hit the road,” John said as he rolled out of bed and headed for the bathroom.

Dean grimaced at the thought of sitting in the car for hours, but he didn’t say anything, partially because he knew John was still under the influence and partially because people dying at the hands of a ghoul in Columbus trumped his sore ass, hands down. 

And if he refused to acknowledge to himself that it wasn’t the idea of sitting in the car that he had a problem with, that was nobody’s business but his own.

~~~

They’d been driving for nearly half an hour when John cursed under his breath before shooting Dean a concerned look from the driver’s seat. “Are you OK?” he asked quietly.

“Fine,” Dean replied. Though he could see John out of the corner of his eye, he didn’t turn his head, keeping his gaze fixed on the road ahead of them. 

“If you need to take a break or something,” John said uncertainly. He winced a little as he added, “I mean, you must be sore.”

Dean did turn to face him then, convinced that it was his father speaking and not the curse. “I’m fine. The sooner we get to Columbus, the more people we save from becoming this ghoul’s next happy meal.”

John nodded and turned his attention back to the road.

Dean studied the man’s profile for a moment before asking, “When it first hit back at the diner, did you already know what it wanted you to do?”

John’s jaw clenched and he shook his head. “No.” After a few seconds, he amended his answer. “Not all of it.”

“But some,” Dean prodded for clarification.

John sighed. “I obviously knew about the sex and how I wanted to do it, but I didn’t know about the spanking or the shit with the mirror until I was already too far gone to do anything about it.” He took his eyes off the road to look at Dean. “I wish to Hell I could have stopped it before it got that far.”

The words went a long way in soothing some of the resentment Dean had been feeling since they’d left the motel. “Yeah, OK,” he said, turning back to watch the road unfolding in front of them.

John glanced at him again, his brow furrowed in concern. “Did you doubt that?”

Dean sighed. “No, not really,” he said after a moment. He shook his head slightly. “We both got off, right?” he said with a forced smirk. “It’s all good.”

“Getting off is a physical response to stimulation,” John reminded him grimly. “It doesn’t mean it was something either of us would want to do by choice.” He looked at Dean with a frown. “I don’t know about you, but I don’t find pain to be a turn-on, either inflicting it or receiving it.”

Dean snorted. “Yeah, I get enough of that shit from the things we hunt without incorporating it into my sex life.”

John smiled wryly before grimacing a little. “And I know how making you watch the whole thing must have made you feel.”

Dean stared straight ahead and shrugged. “Not like I’ve never taken advantage of a conveniently placed mirror before,” he said, trying for nonchalant.

John shot him a knowing look. “But this was different because it’s me,” he said. “And some of the things I said only made it worse; don’t think I don’t realize that.” He paused a moment. “I think … I feel like it’s trying to make me push you too far,” he said quietly.

Dean frowned at him as he thought about that. “You don’t believe she just wanted to keep you busy, do you?” he asked, referring to one of Bobby’s theories.

John shook his head slowly. “No, I don’t,” he said. “Chances are, she didn’t think we’d figure out the curse in time or that I didn’t have anyone who could break it.”

“So, what, since neither of those panned out you think she had a failsafe?” Dean asked.

John shrugged. “Both those scenarios would have ended with me dead at the full moon.” When he looked over at Dean again, his expression was full of regret. “If I drive you away before we finish it, the end result is the same.” 

Dean thought about that for a moment. “And that could be a real possibility if you pulled some of this shit on somebody who had no idea why you were doing it,” he concluded.

“I don’t give a damn about hypotheticals,” John said. “I only care about what it’s doing to you.”

Dean glanced at him in surprise. “I told you, I’m fine. I’m not exactly in the dark here.”

John nodded. “I know that, but just because you know why it’s happening doesn’t mean you’re not affected by it.” He paused briefly. “Especially if you’re wondering how much of this is based on my own thoughts and feelings.”

Dean felt like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “I didn’t …” he sputtered. “I’m not.”

John shot him a somewhat sad smile. “I know you, remember? With this curse putting you at my beck and call, you’re thinking about what Sam said when you guys were arguing the night he left. He accused you of following my every instruction without question and despite talking it out back in Ellicottville, what I said back there has you wondering if maybe he was right all along.” 

Dean stared at his father, unable to come up with anything to refute those words since they described his own thoughts so accurately.

“Believe me, I get it,” John continued, his tone bordering on grim. “This whole thing has fucked with my head more than I want to admit, but you can’t let it make you lose sight of why you’re doing this.” When he looked at Dean again, his expression was solemn. “Is it because you’re too weak to say no? Or because you’re strong enough not to?” 

Dean gave that the consideration it deserved even though the answer came to him immediately. He wasn’t going along with everything John wanted because he was pathetic and desperate to win his father’s approval but because his dad would _die_ if he didn’t and he wasn’t about to let that happen if he could stop it. Being able to put it in perspective made him feel a little more balanced and he was grateful for his dad’s insight. “You know that if your life wasn’t on the line, I’d kick your ass before I’d let you blister mine for kicks,” he finally said, cocking one eyebrow.

John’s huff of laughter revealed both his amusement and his relief. “I know you’d try,” he said with a nod. He shot Dean a crooked grin. “Who knows, you might even win.”

“Damn right I would,” Dean muttered, though his lips twitched in amusement. They drove in silence for a while, each of them thinking of the conversation they’d just had. When Dean turned to look at his dad again, his brow was furrowed in thought.

“What?” John asked, glancing at him with a small frown.

“You didn’t say _’if_ it was being influenced by your own thoughts and feelings, you said _’how much of’_ ” Dean pointed out. “That must mean some of it _is_ stuff you like.”

John tensed a little, his frown deepening. “I didn’t say that.”

“No, you didn’t,” Dean said, “which is why I’m asking.”

“I’m not acting out my deepest, darkest fantasies, if that’s what you mean,” John said gruffly.

“I know that,” Dean said, smirking when John shot a suspicious look his way. “Bobby said it wouldn’t be like that.”

“Oh,” John said, relaxing a little. “Well, it isn’t. And I don’t even know if what I like and don’t like makes a difference anyway. I sure as Hell don’t get a say in it.”

“Considering the nature of the curse, what you don’t like would probably play more of a role than what you like,” Dean mused, turning his head to watch the road. 

“Probably,” John concurred. He shot Dean a sidelong glance. “Just to be clear, what I said back there wasn’t me talking, but what I said a few days ago still stands. You want to pull the plug on this, you just say the word.”

Dean shook his head without hesitation. “Never crossed my mind.” He paused for a second. “Let’s just hope it doesn’t get much worse before it’s over.”

John’s jaw clenched at the thought. “Yeah.”

~~~

When they got to Columbus, they got a room and changed into their suits before going to speak to the local authorities. They were ushered into the Sheriff’s office and flashed their badges as they introduced themselves. “I’m Agent Johnson and this is Agent Young,” John said. 

“Sheriff Connelly,” the middle-aged man said. “It’s not often we get a visit from the FBI.”

“We understand you’ve had some people go missing recently,” Dean said. “We’re investigating the possibility that these cases are connected to similar ones in two different states.”

Sheriff Connelly nodded with a frown. “OK. What can we do to help?”

“What can you tell us about the people who are missing?” John asked. “Did they know each other? Were they connected in any way?”

The sheriff shrugged. “They didn’t know each other well, as far as we can tell. They all grew up here, went to the same school, though at different times. You’d be hard-pressed to find two people who’ve lived in Columbus all their lives and hadn’t run into each other from time to time.”

“Where were they seen last?” Dean asked.

“I, personally, saw Joe at the cemetery on the 9th,” the sheriff said. “Vandals had pushed over some headstones the night before and I was checking out the damage. The town council had arranged for some men to go out on the 10th to help Joe with some of the larger stones but he was nowhere to be found. We checked his house but nothing seemed out of the ordinary. No one’s seen him since.”

“He ever take off before?” John asked.

The sheriff shook his head. “From all accounts, Joe’s a very conscientious man. He wouldn’t just not show up for work. We thought maybe he’d fallen ill or something, which is why we went by his place to check up on him.”

“Did he normally drive to work?” Dean asked.

“He preferred to walk but he’d drive if the weather was bad. His car was parked neatly in his garage, his keys hanging up inside the house.”

“What can you tell us about the other man?” John asked, glancing down at his notes. “Simon Cooper.”

“Not much more than Joe,” the sheriff said with a shrug. “He left work on the 11th, never made it home.”

“The report said he was riding his bike,” Dean said.

The sheriff nodded. “He’s an avid cyclist. When he’s not working, he’s often out riding the trails in the area.”

“Did you find his bike?” John asked.

“No,” the sheriff replied. “We searched the routes he might have taken but came up empty. Normally, I might think he just took off for a ride but he had plans for dinner with his folks that evening and he wouldn’t have blown that off according to his family and friends.”

“What about Shirley Barnett?” John asked.

“Her husband said she went out to run some errands and just never came back,” Sheriff Connelly said, picking up a folder from his desk and looking through it. “She left her house on the morning of the 12th with plans to stop at the bank, the drug store, the grocery store, the florist and the cemetery. Mrs. Bannister was selling bouquets from her garden outside the grocery store that day and she remembers Shirley buying one so that might have changed her plans about the florist. We found her car a couple of blocks from the cemetery but the flowers weren’t in it, nor were they on her mother’s grave where her husband tells us she planned to put them.”

“What about her personal belongings?” Dean asked.

“Nothing,” the sheriff said with a shake of his head. “Keys, purse, cell phone, all missing. Witnesses saw her both in the drug store and the grocery store but there were no purchases in the car from either of those places.”

“You said you checked the routes Cooper might have taken,” John said. “Do any of them go anywhere near the cemetery?”

“Yeah,” the sheriff said with a nod. “The road through the cemetery runs diagonally. Wouldn’t save much if you’re driving, but walking or biking, it cuts off a good two blocks between Forsythe and Rapelje Road. Lots of people use it as a shortcut. I didn’t think much of it at the time, but after Shirley went missing after having made plans to stop there and since Joe worked there, it seemed like it could be a connection. We searched the cemetery after Shirley’s husband reported her missing but we didn’t find anything out of the ordinary.”

“Any buildings in the cemetery?” Dean asked.

“Just a maintenance shed,” the sheriff said, “and a lot of trees. We searched every inch and didn’t find anything.”

“What about the surrounding area?” John asked. “Any vacant buildings where a … perpetrator might hide out?”

“Just the old Monroe place not too far past the cemetery on old highway 10,” the sheriff said. “The family’s owned the property since this town was nothing more than a stagecoach station, but nobody’s lived there for years.”

“Did you check it out?” Dean asked.

“We did,” the sheriff said with a nod. “Needless to say, we didn’t find anything.”

John made a note in his book before putting it back into his pocket and offering the sheriff a polite smile. “Thank you for your time, Sheriff. We’ll compare notes to what we learned from the other abductions and let you know if we turn up anything.”

“Thank you,” the sheriff said, extending his hand. “We’d sure like to get this cleared up any way possible.” He shook John’s hand and then Dean’s. “Columbus isn’t so big that we can afford to lose citizens at this rate,” he said grimly.

Once outside the sheriff’s office, John loosened his tie as they headed for the car. “We need to check out the cemetery,” he said, “but I’m not traipsing around a graveyard in this get-up.”

Dean snorted, knowing how much John hated wearing a suit and tie. A few minutes later, they were pulling into the motel parking lot and half an hour after that, they were at the cemetery.

They walked the grounds in silence, each of them concealing a machete under their jacket in case anyone happened by. “The sheriff and his men might have checked out the maintenance shed, but I doubt they looked in the most obvious place,” Dean said, nodding toward a patch of ground that had recently been disturbed.

“A grave,” John concurred, looking at the surrounding area. “No headstone, but that doesn’t mean it’s not legit. Could be the marker just isn’t finished yet. We’ll have to check with the sheriff before we go digging it up on speculation.”

“He was right about one thing, though,” Dean said. “There’s nothing else here.”

John turned toward the road and allowed his gaze to travel down the old highway. “That must be the Monroe place,” he said, nodding at a house not too far down the road. “If a ghoul is feeding on bodies here, dead or alive, it would need a place nearby to stash them.”

“And with their strength and speed, it wouldn’t be hard to get a body across that field without being noticed,” Dean added, looking in the same direction John was.

After glancing at one another in silent agreement, they got into the car and headed for the Monroe place. The house was made of stone, many of which were crumbling as testament to the structure’s age. The wood on the wide verandah was rotting and made the way to the front door more treacherous than it would have been when the home was in better repair. They weren’t surprised to find the front door unlocked, knowing that rural residents often didn’t see the need for locks, despite crime statistics proving that they were no more immune from predators as those who lived in the city.

“You check down here,” John said, turning on his flashlight and shining it toward the stairway. “I’ll look around upstairs.” He shot Dean a no-nonsense look. “And be careful.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “They’re strong and they’re fast,” he said. “That fact came up, what, five minutes ago?”

John smirked. “I meant be careful not to fall through a rotted floorboard, smartass.”

“In that case, you’d better heed your own advice, since you’ll have a lot further to fall from the second floor,” Dean said with a grin, knowing that was precisely why John had offered to be the one to search upstairs.

Without further comment, they split up and began to thoroughly search their assigned floors. Once John had checked out the bedrooms in the upper level, he met up with Dean in the kitchen. A trap door in the centre of the floor led to what they assumed was a cellar and Dean carefully made his way down the rickety ladder, only to find the small enclosure empty save for a broken crate and a couple of empty seed bags.

“Nothing down here,” Dean said, shining his light toward where his dad waited at the top of the ladder. After climbing back into the kitchen, Dean brushed some of the dust from his jacket. “Maybe it found another place to hole up.”

“Ghouls don’t stray far from their feeding ground,” John said speculatively. “They wouldn’t target a cemetery that didn’t have a good place to stash their prey unless there was something close by and this place fits a ghoul’s tastes to a T.”

“There’s a barn,” Dean said, nodding toward the window over the sink, through which they could see a barn in abject disrepair. “Kinda”

John nodded once before they both went outside to check it out. There wasn’t much left of the old structure, age and the elements having reduced it to not much more than a stone foundation and some rotted wood. “Nothing here either,” John said as they scanned the area.

“Would the barn have a cellar?” Dean asked, shining his light around the floor.

“Probably not,” John said thoughtfully as he looked back toward the house. “But there might be a storm cellar.”

“Wouldn’t that be the one we already checked out?” Dean asked.

John shook his head as he began making his way back toward the house. “That would be a cold cellar where they’d store food,” he said. “But in the event of a bad storm or a tornado, they’d need a place where the family could wait it out in relative safety without fear of the house coming down on top of them.”

“Gotcha,” Dean said with a nod. When they got closer to the house, they began walking around the perimeter rather than going inside. As they rounded the back corner, they spotted an area where it looked like the grass had been trampled recently, though they both realized it could have been the sheriff and his men as they’d already searched the place. Moving a tangle of dead branches that were once a thriving vine, they discovered a wooden door set into a small hill in the ground. “Good call,” Dean said quietly.

“Let’s just hope the sonofabitch is down there,” John said, pausing before opening the door. “Ready?”

Dean tightened his grip on the machete and nodded. After John had opened the door and started down, Dean followed, glancing around once more before disappearing into the dark hole. There was a table with a torn grocery bag and half-eaten food items, a high-end bicycle leaning against one wall and two cots, both occupied, one with a middle-aged woman and one with a younger man.

“Stay here,” John instructed. “I’ll see if they’re alive.” 

“Who’s there?” the woman called weakly. “Please, you have to help us.”

When John got closer, he could see she was restrained, her wrists and ankles tied to the cot. “It’s OK,” he said, his tone calm and soothing. “We’re here to help.”

“Check on Simon,” she pleaded. “He hasn’t said anything in hours.”

John turned toward the cot where the young man was similarly restrained. He’d taken only one step when he caught a flash of green coveralls. “Dean! Look out!”

“Too late, hunter,” the woman sneered from behind him.

He was swinging the machete as he turned but before it made contact, he was hit in the side of the head with something heavy. The last thing he heard before he lost consciousness was Dean’s voice frantically calling to him.

End of part eight


	9. Chapter 9

When John regained consciousness, he was slumped against one wall as though he’d been tossed aside carelessly. It took him a second to get his bearings before he remembered the ghoul and his eyes darted around in search of Dean. When he tried to move, he realized his hands were tied behind his back. “Dean,” he called out hoarsely, his head still swimming from the blow he’d taken.

“He can’t answer you right now,” a woman’s voice said from a dark corner of the cellar.

John squinted into the darkness as the woman stepped closer. “So help me, you hurt him and I’ll…”

The woman was in his face in a flash, putting to rest any doubt that she was the ghoul they’d been looking for. “You’ll what?” it sneered. “Kill me?” It laughed darkly. “You’re hardly in a position to make threats, hunter.”

“What have you done with my son?” John hissed.

“Oh, he’s alive,” it assured him with a wicked grin. “For now. After decades subsisting on rotting flesh, we’ve discovered we prefer our meals a little warmer, a little _fresher_.” It looked over at one of the cots. “Big and strong like he is? He’ll last a few days at least.”

John followed her gaze and felt his gut clench when he saw an unconscious Dean restrained to the cot, blood oozing from a bite mark on his wrist. “You sonofabitch,” he growled. 

“Is that any way to speak to a lady?” the ghoul taunted.

“You can take on the appearance of your victims,” John rasped, “but that doesn’t change what you are.” 

The ghoul detected a small movement in his arms and grinned again. “Looking for this?” it asked, holding up the knife John usually carried in a sheath on his belt. “Not very hospitable to come into our home carrying such weapons,” it mused.

“You keep saying ‘we’ and ‘our’,” John said, trying to distract her while he felt for the small pocket sewn into the inside of his belt and the pen knife hidden there. “I thought ghouls hunted alone.”

“Some do,” it said with a shrug, “but some prefer the company of a mate, much the same as humans do.”

“Must get confusing when you can change your appearance to look like the person you most recently killed,” John spat.

“Oh, we don’t have to kill them,” the other ghoul said, stepping out of the shadows, “all we need is a taste.”

The familiar voice had John’s head whipping around and his stomach roiled when he saw a pale version of Dean standing there. “I’ll kill you for this,” he promised darkly.

“I’m afraid you won’t get the chance,” fake-Dean said. “As soon as that curse is out of your system, you’re next.”

John’s jaw clenched, his expression hardening. He knew that, when a ghoul took on a victim’s persona, it also got all of their memories.

“That’s right,” ghoul-Dean said with an evil smile. “I know everything he knows, including every perverted thing you’ve done to him and exactly how he really feels about it.” He squatted down before John, his eyes roaming over him disdainfully. “You think he enjoys your hands on him? You think he likes bending over for you whenever you feel the urge? He only does it because he thinks that’s his _job_ , to look after you and his brother at all costs. He _knows_ being your son will never be enough for you. He’s always had to prove his worth, hasn’t he, John? As a babysitter, a bodyguard, a weapon you could hone for your own needs?” He paused briefly, his facing morphing into a smirk so familiar, yet so hateful that John wanted to close his eyes against it. “And now as your whore?”

“That’s not true!” John growled, knowing the ghoul was trying to get a reaction out of him but no longer able to ignore the way the monster was twisting everything around. He’d managed to get the knife out and was carefully sawing at the rope binding his wrists. 

“No?” fake-Dean taunted. “So you weren’t going to leave him if he didn’t agree to be your sex-toy until the full moon?”

John took a moment to regain control of his emotions before he offered a wry smirk of his own. “You may be able to look like us, even take on our memories, but you’ll never know how we really _feel_ about anything because you’re incapable of it.” His smirk turned into a sneer. “You’re nothing more than a pathetic, filthy scavenger playing dress-up.” He felt a brief sense of elation as the rope finally gave way. 

“Let’s just kill him now,” the female ghoul hissed. 

“Oh, no,” fake-Dean said with a shake of his head. “I want him alive to watch as we drain his _son_ dry.” He fixed John with a steely gaze. “You’re big on the watching, aren’t you, John?”

“Dad?” Dean’s actual voice carried from the area of the cot, demanding John’s attention.

“Dean,” John breathed in obvious relief.

“Get away from him you sonsofbitches!” Dean yelled, struggling against his bonds.

Fake-Dean stepped over to the cot and Dean blanched at seeing his own face looking down at him.

“Leave him alone!” John called frantically, not wanting to give away the fact that he was no longer helplessly bound. He could see his machete where it had fallen but knew he wouldn’t have a chance to reach it before one or both of the creatures were on him.

“Looks like our other guest is awake as well,” ghoul-Dean said, glancing at its mate. “And my little taste test has convinced me that his blood is free of any taint from the curse, so there’s no need to put off our meal any longer.” It grinned down at Dean. “It’s so much more fun to feed when they’re awake.”

The female ghoul was at Dean’s other side instantly, stroking the unbroken skin of his neck. “Can I?” it asked, its voice trembling as it looked at its mate for permission.

“Not the throat just yet,” ghoul-Dean said, smirking in John’s direction. “We wouldn’t want this to be over too soon and deprive our guest of the entertainment, would we?”

Giving Dean’s throat one last, longing look, the female ghoul turned its attention to Dean’s unblemished wrist before raising its gaze to meet that of its mate. “Join me in a bite?” it taunted.

Ghoul-Dean huffed a laugh and nodded, reaching for the wrist it had bitten earlier. “Don’t mind if I do.”

Both ghouls bent to their task and Dean’s cry of pain spurred John to action. Jumping to his feet, he grabbed the machete and lopped off the female ghoul’s head before they knew he’d moved, so engrossed were they in the treat spread out before them.

Ghoul-Dean startled at the sudden action and stared at the body of its mate for a brief second before turning its attention to John, who still wielded the bloody machete. “You think you can kill me looking like this?” it taunted, once it got over its initial shock. The face impersonating Dean’s took on a sultry expression. “Wouldn’t you rather have him watch while you fuck me?”

Rage had John’s grip tightening on the machete, but he knew he’d have to take at least one step to get within striking distance and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to make it with the element of surprise no longer in his favor. Thankfully, Dean was aware enough of what was going on to realize that a distraction was needed.

“Nice try,” Dean taunted, “but he’d never fuck a disgusting piece of shit like you no matter who you looked like.” 

The insult had the ghoul glancing murderously at Dean for only a second, but it was enough and John took advantage of the lapse, leaping forward and severing the ghoul’s head.

“Dean,” John breathed, dropping the machete and going straight to work on the ropes binding Dean to the cot. Once he’d cut the ropes, he helped him sit up before examining the torn flesh at Dean’s wrist, blood still flowing freely from the opened vein. “We’ll need to stitch these up,” he said, hastily taking off his shirt and tearing a strip to tightly wrap the wound, wincing at Dean’s muffled cry of pain before moving to the other side of the cot and doing the same with the other. Once he was done, he studied Dean’s features with concern. “How do you feel?”

“Like I’m down a quart or two,” Dean said honestly. “Other than that, I’m OK.” He looked over to the other cot where Simon Cooper’s body lay motionless. “He was still alive when they tied me up,” he said.

John quickly went over to check on him. “He’s got a pulse, but it’s weak,” John said, tearing another makeshift bandage to stem the blood oozing from a bite mark on Simon’s neck. He picked up a blanket from the floor and covered the pale form, knowing the man’s body would most likely be in shock after all the blood he’d obviously lost. After doing what he could for the hapless victim, John glanced around the small, dark enclosure, looking for their personal belongings. Once he spotted them on the table with the half-eaten groceries, he went over to grab his phone. Dialing 911, he informed the dispatcher that they needed an ambulance and the sheriff, before giving the location and hanging up. He quickly gathered the rest of their things before returning to where Dean still sat on the cot. 

"We gonna wait for the sheriff?" Dean asked wearily.

John shook his head. “I’ll call him and fill him in later,” he said. “First, I need to get you back to the motel where I can clean those wounds and close them up properly.”

“What about him?” Dean asked, looking over at the other cot.

“He’s young and strong, probably the only reason he’s lasted this long,” John said grimly, “but he’s lost a lot of blood. There’s nothing we can do for him that the paramedics can’t do better.”

Dean nodded and waited while John collected their belongings before helping him to his feet and over to the ladder. By the time they were outside, they could already hear sirens approaching. Knowing they didn’t have time for a lengthy explanation at the moment, John hurried Dean to the car and put him in the passenger seat before climbing behind the wheel and starting down the long driveway. Seconds after they pulled out onto the highway, the ambulance pulled in.

“What are you going to tell the sheriff?” Dean asked.

“Since one decapitated body looks like one of his missing persons and the other like the FBI agent he met a few hours ago, I’m guessing the truth is our best bet,” John said flatly.

Dean nodded slowly. “He seemed like a reasonable enough man. Let’s just hope he believes you and doesn’t put out a warrant for our arrest.”

“It should be an easy sell with two dead undead bodies as evidence,” John said.

“Yeah,” Dean said listlessly, his eyelids drooping

They were already approaching the motel parking lot and John gave silent thanks for small towns. “Hold on, kid,” he said quietly when he saw the alarming amount of blood already seeping through the cloth covering Dean’s wounds. 

Once they were inside the room a few minutes later, John helped Dean to one of the beds, pulling back the covers with a vicious tug and not caring where they landed. Quickly, he stripped Dean down to his boxers and laid him back on the bed before heading to his bag for the first aid kit and then to the bathroom where he filled the plastic ice bucket with warm soapy water and grabbed a couple of washcloths.

“This is going to sting a little,” he said once he’d returned to the bed and unwrapped one of Dean’s wrists. He was relieved to find blood oozing more slowly from the wound but knew that it would likely flow freely again once he’d cleaned it out. Taking the soapy washcloth in his hand, he thoroughly cleansed the wound, steeling himself against Dean’s grunts of pain. When he poured the disinfectant into the freshly-cleaned bite, Dean had to stifle a cry. “It’s going to need a few stitches, but I want to get the other one cleaned out first,” he said, pressing a clean bandage to the wound. “Want something for the pain?”

Dean shook his head. “Just do it,” he said, gritting his teeth as John began cleaning out the second bite.

Less than half an hour later, John had both wrists stitched and bandaged. “Our biggest threat now is infection,” he said grimly as he sat on the side of the bed and surveyed his handiwork. “And you need to rest and drink lots of fluids to combat the blood loss.”

Dean shivered slightly as he remembered being fed on, however briefly. “I hate ghouls,” he said with a hint of a pout.

John snorted. “I’m not a huge fan, either,” he said. He stroked Dean’s forehead gently, partially to check for fever, partially because he just felt like he needed the contact. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I shouldn’t have been so gung-ho for this hunt when we’re still dealing with the effects of another one.”

“It’s not like you could just turn your back on a town being systematically devoured like a Sunday buffet at Denny’s,” Dean said, “I know that.”

John picked up the covers from where he’d tossed them on the floor at the foot of the bed and covered Dean with them, tucking him in and smirking when Dean scowled at him. “It’s not the first time I’ve tucked you in when you were sick.”

“The first time since I was ten, and I’m not sick,” Dean grumbled, reaching out to touch John’s arm and finding no sign of fever. “You sure this isn’t the curse?”

“Funny,” John said, his lips twitching slightly as he pulled his arm back and went over to the sink. After getting a glass of water and a bottle from his bag, he returned to sit on the side of the bed. He handed Dean the glass and then shook a pill out of the bottle before holding that out, too.

“I don’t want a pain pill,” Dean said, shaking his head with a frown.

“It’s iron,” John said. “It’ll help replenish your blood supply.”

Dean took the pill, swallowing it and then draining the glass while John watched.

“You shouldn’t have gotten hurt,” John said. “If I hadn’t been able to get to the knife in time…” he allowed the words to trail off, paling slightly at the thought of what could have happened.

“Or if we’d known there were two of them, or if we’d realized that the ‘victim’ was really the ghoul, or if I had seen the second one in time to react,” Dean added. “None of that shit matters. We ganked them and lived to tell about it; that’s a win in my book.”

“Yeah, it is,” John said with a small smile. “You should sleep and I’ll call the sheriff and see if I can explain things.”

“Yeah, OK,” Dean said, already closing his eyes.

John watched him for a moment longer before getting up with a sigh and stepping outside to talk to the sheriff.

~~~

When Dean woke up, it was with John gently shaking his shoulder and calling his name.

“What’s the matter?” Dean asked, sitting up and wincing as he was reminded of his injuries.

“Nothing,” John assured him, giving Dean a chance to get his bearings before handing him another glass of water. “I just really need you to drink this.”

Dean took the glass and downed it in a few swallows. “Thanks,” he said, handing the glass back. “What time is it?”

John refilled the glass and held it out to Dean. “Nearly six,” he said. He touched Dean’s forehead and smiled a little when there was no sign of fever. “How do you feel?”

Dean finished the second glass of water and thought about the question for a moment. “Fine,” he said. John quirked an eyebrow at him and Dean huffed a wry laugh. “Really, I’m good. The fucking bites throb a bit but it’s nothing I can’t handle.”

“Are you hungry?” John asked. “You haven’t eaten since breakfast.”

“I am, actually,” Dean said, almost as though he was surprised by that fact.

“Good,” John said with a satisfied nod. “I’ll go pick up some sandwiches or something.”

“You don’t have to,” Dean said, “We can hit the road if you’d rather.”

“I’d _rather_ you just stay in bed and take it easy for the rest of the night,” John said. “I explained everything to the sheriff and they’re not looking for us if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“What I’m worried about is you treating me like an invalid,” Dean said with a frown. “Did you find out something about ghoul bites that you’re not telling me? Am I dying? Or going to turn into one of them or something?”

“No,” John said, looking at him like he’d lost his mind. “Of course not.”

“Then what’s with the Florence Nightingale routine?” Dean asked, though he was somewhat relieved by John’s reaction to his questions. “We’ve both been hurt a lot worse on hunts.”

“I just want to make sure you’re OK,” John said defensively. “Is that so strange?”

“No,” Dean admitted, “but you can see I’m fine. Thanks to you, they didn’t get a chance to drain me any more than your average blood bank.”

“And your average blood bank would advise you to take it easy for the rest of the day,” John pointed out.

“I can do that in the car,” Dean countered, his expression one of indignation. “I sure as Hell don’t need to stay in bed.”

John huffed a sigh of exasperation. “Fine. If you feel up to it, we’ll go out for something to eat, but I still think we should stay here for the night. We can head out in the morning if you want.”

That was more of a compromise than John would normally offer and Dean took advantage of it. “Deal,” he said, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “What did you do with my clothes?”

John handed him the neatly folded pile that had been sitting on the other bed.

“It’s like having maid-service,” Dean said with a smirk, taking the clothes and getting to his feet. “You must have really been bored while I was asleep.”

John smiled faintly at the thought of him being maid-like in any way. “It did give me a lot of time to think.”

“Yeah?” Dean asked distractedly as he got dressed. “About what?”

“About you,” John said without hesitation.

Dean looked at him with a small frown as he fastened his jeans. “What about me?”

John smiled sadly. “You know I’m not one for speeches or fancy words,” he said quietly.

Dean snorted. “No shit, Sherlock.”

“But tomorrow is the full moon,” John continued, “and there are some things I really need to tell you, just in case things don’t go quite the way we hope they will.”

Dean’s expression turned serious in a heartbeat. “What things?” he asked.

“Sit down,” John said gently.

Dean sat down on the bed he’d been sleeping on and John sat across from him on the other.

“When we were in Ellicottville and you were having a hard time adjusting to Sam leaving, we talked about some of the mistakes I made while you boys were growing up, do you remember that?”

“Of course,” Dean said, still frowning. “I said I didn’t blame you and I meant it.”

John smiled a little. “Yeah, I know you did.” He paused for a moment. “When that ghoul was impersonating you, it had all your memories and it said some things.” He shook his head slightly when Dean opened his mouth to protest. “I know it was probably twisting things around to suit its own purposes, but I need to make sure you know the truth.”

“Ok,” Dean said warily. “What did it say?”

“The exact words aren’t important,” John said bitterly as he thought about them. “What matters is that you know, while I may have stopped being a father at some point, you never stopped being my son. I piled a lot of shit on you, made it necessary for you to take on the roles of babysitter, hunter, bodyguard, Hell, even parent at times. You took on every challenge and never complained, not once. And while I might not have said it, I was always proud of you for being able to handle everything this life threw at you, but none of that, _none_ of it, meant more to me than the fact that you were my son. If I ever made you think that wasn’t enough, I was wrong and I’m sorry.”

“OK,” Dean said, his voice not much more than a whisper.

“I don’t see you as a soldier or a weapon or a fucking sex-toy,” John said, practically choking on the last word. “I don’t want to see you hurt or demeaned or made to feel like you’re nothing but a means to an end. What you’re doing to help break this curse goes far above and beyond what anybody has a right to expect and I wasn’t going to leave because I didn’t think you’d be strong enough to handle it, but because I didn’t want you to _have_ to.”

“I know,” Dean said, surprising himself a little with the realization that he _did_ know that, even though it meant a lot to hear John say it.

“I’m glad,” John said with a watery smile. “In light of some of the things I’ve said and done to you while under the influence of this curse, I’m surprised that you haven’t punched my fucking lights out and left my ass to die by now.”

“I could never just leave you to die,” Dean said honestly. “And whenever I feel like throwing a punch, I remind myself that it’s not really you.”

“That probably doesn’t do much good when you’re forced to watch and it’s me you’re seeing,” John said. 

Dean frowned and opened his mouth to say something but John cut him off. “The ghoul brought the watching thing up more than once so I know it was on your mind. Believe me, Dean, I _know_ how important your walls are to you and while I wish to God you never had to build them, I know first-hand why you did and I’d never tear them down for my own gratification.”

Dean nodded once, looking down at his hands.

“And in answer to your earlier question,” John continued more quietly. “If there’s _anything_ I like about this whole thing, it’s the times when I’m able to make you feel good. That’s not something we get a lot of in this life and, selfish or not, I’m glad when I’m able to do that for you, even if it is because of a fucking witch and her curse.”

Dean shrugged. “Most of the sex is good, despite the reason for it,” he admitted. He smirked a little. “Then again, your knack for dirty talk could probably make anything hotter than it should be.”

John grinned. “I was a Marine, remember?” His expression sobered as he thought about what Dean had said. “But there’s a difference between dirty and demeaning talk and I wish it hadn’t made me cross that line with you.”

Dean shrugged slightly before sighing and scrubbing a hand over his face. “Since we seem to be doing the whole caring and sharing thing here, when I said I get enough pain from the things we hunt, I wasn’t comparing you to them, I was just …” 

“Yeah, I get it,” John said when Dean allowed the thought to trail off. “It’s not something I was ever into, either,” he admitted, “and I know I freaked out about it the first time it made me spank you, but when I think back on it now, it was really fucking hot.”

“Yeah, it was,” Dean agreed, relieved that John had admitted it first.

“But the second time was different,” John continued, “and I’m not sure if it just went too far or if it was the humiliation aspect or both.”

“Neither would be a big deal if all the other shit wasn’t already messing with my head,” Dean said.

“Does knowing the truth help at all?” John asked quietly.

Dean nodded even as he thought about it. “Yeah,” he said, “it does.”

John took a deep breath and blew it out while raking a hand through his hair. “We still have a little over a day before this thing is supposed to be broken and I have no idea what it’s going to make me do but …”

“But we’ll get through it,” Dean said when John’s words trailed off. “Whatever it is, it won’t change anything that matters.”

“No,” John said with a small smile, relieved that he’d apparently gotten that across. “No, it won’t.”

“So, are we done with the chick-flick stuff?” Dean asked hopefully. “Because I really am hungry.”

John huffed a laugh and reached out to squeeze Dean’s shoulder as they got to their feet. “Then we’d best go find you something to eat.”

~~~

Once they were seated in the diner and the waitress had taken their order, Dean was the first to speak. “You said things were cool with the sheriff. How did he take hearing the truth?”

“Better than he probably would have if he didn’t have so much evidence staring him in the face. He was skeptical at first but having found two versions of Shirley Barnett went a long way toward convincing him that I was telling the truth.” 

“Is the Cooper guy going to make it?”

“They think so,” John said with a nod. “Which is more than I can say for the other two. They found their bodies stashed in the cellar.”

“That sucks,” Dean said sincerely, “but at least we were able to keep the body count down to two.”

“And we learned some valuable information, namely that ghouls sometimes take mates,” John pointed out with a bit of a shudder.

The waitress brought their food and they thanked her and waited for her to leave before resuming their conversation.

“Were you planning on looking for another hunt?” Dean asked.

“Not until this curse is finished one way or another,” John said grimly.

Dean looked up from his plate. “You realize that it wasn’t because of the curse that they got the jump on us, right? It was because we weren’t expecting there to be two of them.”

“Yeah, I know,” John acquiesced darkly. “But if one or both of us gets killed before it’s done, it was all for nothing.”

Dean couldn’t argue with that logic and went back to his burger.

“We could always head to Bobby’s if you want,” John suggested reluctantly.

Dean nearly choked on a mouthful of food. “Seriously?” he asked, once he’d swallowed. “Knowing how intense this thing could still get, you want to finish it off at _Bobby’s_?”

“Of course I don’t _want_ to,” John said indignantly. “And I doubt Bobby would want that either.”

Dean snorted. “Considering that he’s been texting rather than calling, I’d say that’s a safe bet.”

“But we’d both suck it up if it meant you’d have a safe place to be if something happens to me.”

Dean put down his burger and leaned forward. “First, nothing’s going to happen to you and if it does, I’m perfectly capable of making it to Bobby’s on my own if that’s where I want to go. And second, it’s obvious he’s uncomfortable enough just _knowing_ about this without giving him a front row seat.”

John grimaced a little. “You’re right, it was a stupid idea.”

Dean picked up his burger once again. “It wasn’t _stupid_ ,” he said with a smirk. “It’s just kinda mean to want to give one of your best friends a heart attack.”

John snorted. “Good point,” he said, proceeding to cut up his meatloaf.

Dean dipped a couple of fries into ketchup and popped them in his mouth. “Especially since he already expressed a concern for the health of _your_ heart with the physical demands of the curse,” he said with a grin.

“He said that?” John asked, eyes narrowed.

Dean nodded. “I believe his exact words were, ‘he’s not as young as he used to be’.”

John looked suitably offended and Dean’s grin widened. “You think that’s funny?” John asked, one eyebrow cocked.

“Hell yeah,” Dean said. “It’s payback for that time I wanted to go after that poltergeist on my own and you both told me I was too young.”

“You were twelve,” John reminded him. “You _were_ too young.”

“Yeah, well,” Dean said with a shrug as he dragged more fries through the ketchup, “I still felt the same way that you probably do hearing you’re too old to do something.”

“That’s probably true,” John said with a fond smile. “I remember how excited you were the first time you took on a hunt by yourself, even though you tried to let on it was no big deal.”

Dean chuckled. “Playing it cool was my thing,” he said. “Truth is, as long as I’d waited for that chance, I remember being nervous once I finally got it.”

“Yeah, well, if it’s any comfort, I was shittin’ bricks,” John remembered. “I was two states away and wasn’t going to be able to make it back in time for the full moon. You said you could handle it and I finally gave in, but I can tell you, I broke every speed law getting back to make sure you were OK.”

“And I was fine,” Dean said, rolling his eyes.

“You were like a five-year-old on a sugar-rush,” John said with a grin. 

“Hey, it was my first solo hunt and I bagged a werewolf, damned right I was excited,” Dean said in his defense, though he was smiling at the memory. “I know it might not have been the life you wanted for us,” he added after a moment, “but we have some good memories, right?”

“Yeah,” John said, his smile both fond and sad. 

They finished their meals in relative silence and Dean pushed the plate aside while drained his coffee cup. “So, want to go for a couple of drinks, maybe shoot a game of pool?”

“Keeping in mind that you agreed to take it easy, how about we pick up a six-pack and a couple of movies instead,” John countered.

“I can deal with that,” Dean said with a nod.

~~~

After picking up beer, a case of bottled water, X-Men 2 and Pirates of the Caribbean, they headed back to the room and settled in for a quiet evening. Halfway through the first movie, Dean glanced over at the other bed to discover his father had fallen asleep, the laptop open in front of him. Knowing that John hadn’t been getting much sleep lately, Dean turned the sound down a little and turned his attention back to the screen. When John was still sound asleep by the time the ending credits rolled, Dean figured he’d probably be out for a while. Getting up, he carefully extricated the laptop from beneath John’s lax hands, not surprised when even the small movement had his dad opening his eyes.

“What’s wrong?” John asked gruffly.

“Nothing at the moment,” Dean said with a small shake of his head, “but you’re going to have one helluva stiff neck in the morning if you sleep like that all night. Lay down.”

“I’m OK,” John said, pushing himself up to a straighter sitting position, “but you need to drink something.”

Dean snorted. “I had a beer and two bottles of water during the course of one movie,” he said. “That has to be some sort of record or something.”

“The water only cancelled out the alcohol,” John said. “You should drink another bottle.” He frowned a little. “Water, not beer.”

“I will,” Dean said, “if you promise to get some actual sleep.”

John’s eyes narrowed. “This isn’t a negotiation.”

“It shouldn’t have to be,” Dean agreed, “but if that’s the only way you’ll agree to get some sleep, so be it.”

John reached up and felt Dean’s cheek, glad to find nothing but a normal temperature. “We still have to keep an eye out for infection. Supernatural bites are nothing to take lightly.”

“I realize that,” Dean said patiently. “And I promise, if I suddenly spike a fever or get a craving for human flesh, I’ll let you know. Not that you’ll hear me if you die of exhaustion first.”

John’s lips quirked into a slight smile. “Yeah, OK,” he finally said. He really was exhausted and a few hours of uninterrupted sleep sounded good. Getting off of the bed, he pulled off his shirt, socks and jeans before pulling back the covers and slipping between the sheets. “Happy?”

“Ecstatic,” Dean deadpanned, turning away from the bed to take one DVD out of the player and put the other one in. 

“You’re not going to sleep?” John asked with a small frown.

“I slept earlier, remember?” Dean said. “I’m going to watch this in bed and when I’m tired enough, I’ll fall asleep.”

“But not before you drink something,” John reminded him.

Dean went straight to the small fridge and pulled out a bottle of water. After taking off the cap, he downed it in one go. “Happy?” he asked after wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

John closed his eyes. “Ecstatic,” he mumbled, already drifting off to sleep.

~~~

Dean startled only briefly when he was awakened by someone climbing into the bed behind him. “I thought you were sleeping,” he mumbled.

“I was,” John murmured, pressing himself close and kissing the side of Dean’s neck. “Now I’m awake.” He bit lightly on Dean’s earlobe. “And horny as Hell.”

Dean snorted. “Yeah, I got that,” he said, pushing back against the hard length pressed against his ass. There was no mistaking the unnatural heat coming off the other man and he rolled onto his back, searching John’s flushed features. The fever felt at least as high as it had been the day before and Dean knew it could possibly do irreparable damage if left unchecked for too long. Remembering what John had said about it being better once they’d actually started something, he pulled John into a long, hard kiss.

“That was unexpected,” John said, searching Dean’s features quizzically once the kiss ended.

Dean licked his lips. “I didn’t want your fever to get any higher.”

John smiled. “Still taking care of me, just like you have since you were a kid.”

“Yeah, well, somebody has to,” Dean said.

John’s gaze searched Dean’s face for a moment before he leaned in and claimed his lips in a slower, more seductive kiss. “And now I’m gonna take care of you,” he said. “Gonna make you feel so good.”

The promise sent a tremor of anticipation through Dean’s body. “OK,” he whispered.

John smiled at the unnecessary permission and deposited a light kiss on the tempting lips before lifting one of Dean’s bandaged wrists in his hand. “First, let’s make sure these are safely out of harm’s way.” He kissed the heel of Dean’s palm almost reverently and then placed the hand on the pillow next to Dean’s head before repeating the procedure with the other. “Can you keep them there for me?” he asked softly. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Dean nodded, hoping it wouldn’t prove to be a lie. “Yeah,” he said.

John kissed him once more before trailing a line of kisses along his jawline to his neck. Once there, he bit down just hard enough to elicit a pleasured gasp from the man beneath him before laving the abused skin with his tongue and then moving downward. He took his time, littering the hard chest with soft kisses before making his way to one nipple. Taking the pebbled nub into his mouth, he grazed it lightly with his teeth, reveling in the way Dean’s body shuddered in response. He suckled and nibbled at the sensitive flesh until it stood hard and red atop Dean’s chest before abandoning it to tease the other into the same condition. The breathy gasps and whimpers escaping Dean’s lips were ones of pleasure, not pain, and John wanted to spend hours just hearing those sounds, but the need both in his mind and in his dick, pushed him onward. He blazed a trail of sucking, biting kisses down Dean’s body, pulling the blanket back as he went. When he finally got to the waistband of Dean’s boxers, be bent his head to mouth at the wet spot already growing there as evidence of Dean’s arousal.

A startled curse had him looking up at the other man with a crooked grin. “Problem?”

“Talk about fucking unexpected,” Dean panted, his dick twitching at the memory of John’s mouth on it, even separated by the thin layer of cotton.

John’s grin widened and he pulled Dean’s boxers off and tossed them aside before positioning himself between the strong thighs. After a mischievous glance at Dean’s face, he took the younger man’s cock into his mouth and began to suck.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Dean hissed, clenching his fists tightly in an effort not to reach down and grasp John’s head as it bobbed up and down on his dick. The fact that he wasn’t supposed to move his hands added an extra thrill that, combined with the masterful way John was working his cock, had him on the verge of coming after an embarrassingly short time. When John showed no sign of stopping, Dean _did_ move his hands, trying to push John’s head away. “You better stop, I’m gonna…”

John stopped, but only long enough to issue a one-word warning. “Hands.”

Dean tried to get himself under control as he slowly moved his hands back to where John had placed them, but once he’d accomplished that task, John’s mouth was on him again, sucking harder as though he knew exactly how close Dean was. 

Holding down Dean’s hips with his hands, John took the younger man’s cock as deep into his throat as he could and swallowed, humming in appreciation as Dean let out an inarticulate cry and came. He kept swallowing through Dean’s orgasm, coaxing every last bit of the milky come down his throat before releasing him, gently licking the head of the spent dick before moving back up Dean’s body and claiming his lips in a hard, messy kiss.

Dean moaned as he tasted himself on John’s tongue, his arms moving to wrap around John’s back despite the earlier admonishment. 

When John finally lifted his head to gaze down into Dean’s sated features, he wore a small but satisfied smile. “You liked that,” he said, more statement than question.

Dean snorted. “Ya think?”

John chuckled and kissed Dean again, long and slow. “Good, but I’m not finished with you yet.” He nudged the younger man onto his side, then pressed in behind him, bending Dean’s top leg at the knee before reaching for the lube. Slicking his fingers, he tossed the bottle aside and then slid one long digit into Dean’s hole. “You’re so relaxed like this,” John murmured, stroking the finger in and out slowly. “I could do anything to you right now.”

Dean closed his eyes and allowed himself to enjoy the sensations. “A good blow job will do that,” he quipped, punctuating the statement with a soft moan as John lightly grazed his prostate.

John added another finger and continued stroking into the pliant body, varying the speed and depth, first twisting and then scissoring, gliding over Dean’s prostate one minute and bypassing it the next. 

The constant flux had Dean’s breath quickening, his hips shifting of their own accord as his recently-spent cock began to harden once again. He groaned in protest when John withdrew his hand and was rewarded with a chuckle and a soft kiss to the side of his neck.

“It’s OK,” John soothed as he grabbed the discarded bottle of lube and coated his cock. “I’ve got you.” Once prepared, he lifted Dean’s top leg and wedged his own beneath it, sliding his arm under Dean’s body to pull him closer as he pushed his cock into the warm channel. He groaned as he bottomed out, taking a moment to revel in the feeling of being deep inside the willing body. After giving them both a moment to adjust, he began to slowly rock in and out, his chest pressed to Dean’s back, his lips leaving a trail of barely there kisses across Dean’s shoulder and up to his neck. 

Dean pressed back into each leisurely thrust, one hand covering John’s where it was splayed against his stomach, the other clutching the edge of the pillow as he slowly climbed toward the peak he’d so recently crested under the talented ministrations of John’s mouth. 

“Can you come again?” John whispered, mindful of how recent Dean’s last orgasm had been. 

“Yeah,” Dean breathed.

Taking his free hand, John reached around and began stroking Dean’s cock in time with his thrusts. After a few minutes at the leisurely pace, he pulled Dean even closer and began to rock into him a little faster, a little deeper. Dean matched the new rhythm without missing a beat, moaning his approval as John reached new depths inside him.

“I love it when you come,” John murmured, gently biting at the juncture where neck met shoulder. “The way it feels when your ass grips my cock so tight, the little noises you make, the way you look when you’re too far gone to do anything but just let go and let it happen.” He kissed the spot he’d so recently bitten. “So fucking hot.”

Dean moaned, the words fueling the orgasm that was already fast approaching. 

“Come on, Dean,” John said, punctuating the words with a hard, deep thrust. “Show me.”

With a throaty moan, Dean’s second orgasm of the night was ripped from him, his cock erupting in John’s fist.

“That’s it,” John whispered, holding Dean tight as he fucked him through it. Dean’s ass clenching around his cock tipped him over the edge and he cursed softly, his hips pumping his release into the tight channel.

They lay there, breathing heavily, as they came down, John eventually loosening his grip and kissing Dean’s bare shoulder before gently pulling out and rolling onto his back.

Dean followed suit, closing his eyes briefly, unable to keep himself from comparing what had just happened with the last time the curse had struck. It was like night and day, the blatant indifference from before compared to the gentle, almost sweet regard John had just shown him. Turning his head, he studied his dad’s profile for a moment. “It really is all over the map, isn’t it?” he said.

John huffed a weary laugh. “Yeah,” he said. Turning to meet Dean’s gaze, he added, “But in this case, I’m not complaining.”

Dean turned his head, looking up at the ceiling for a moment before closing his eyes again. “Me neither.”

A few seconds later, John rolled out of the bed, going to the small fridge and grabbing a bottle of water. He handed it to Dean and then headed into the bathroom for a warm washcloth. Instead of using it himself, he handed it to Dean. “We should move to the other bed where it’s dry,” he said, nodding toward the bed he’d vacated earlier. 

Dean put the half-empty water bottle aside and took the cloth, quickly cleaning himself up and glancing at the dry half of his own bed. “It’s fine, I’ll just sleep on the other side,” he said.

John held out his hand for the soiled cloth and used it to wipe off his own dick before tossing it toward the bathroom. “Why should either of us sleep in the wet spot when we don’t have to?” he asked matter-of-factly.

Dean looked at him as he realized John had said _we_ not _you_. “Yeah, OK,” he said, getting out of the bed and reaching for his boxers. After he’d pulled them on and climbed into the other bed, John joined him, wrapping an arm around Dean from behind and pulling him close. Dean could still feel the fever on John’s skin, but it wasn’t at the alarming level from earlier. Once they were settled in comfortable sleeping positions, they lay in silence for a moment before Dean spoke again. “Tomorrow is the full moon.”

John kissed his shoulder. “Tonight, actually,” he said. “It’s after midnight.”

“How do you feel?” Dean asked.

John seemed to think about that for a moment. “Like I physically _need_ to be touching you,” he finally answered, a hint of tension in his voice.

Dean shifted a little, entwining his legs with John’s and pulling the arm around his waist tighter. “Better?” he asked.

John let out a breath that tickled behind Dean’s ear. “Yeah,” he said, his tone hinting at relief. He kissed Dean’s neck, shifting even closer. “Yeah, that’s better.”

Dean listened to John’s breathing as it went from relaxed and content into the deep, even cadence of sleep. Only then did he close his eyes and allow himself to succumb to the same.

End of part nine


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd been ready to post this nearly a week ago but I really wasn't happy with it and decided to do a major re-write instead. While I apologize for the delay, I think this version works better for the story. Enjoy!

The sudden loss of the heat next to his skin was enough to wake Dean as John got out of the bed. “What time’s it?” Dean asked groggily.

“Quarter after seven,” John told him. “Go back to sleep if you want; I’m going to go out and get some coffee.”

Dean closed his eyes, listening to the sounds of John relieving himself in the bathroom, then washing his hands and getting dressed before leaving the room. He was still teetering on the edge between dozing and not when John returned a short time later. The aroma of coffee had him pushing himself to a sitting position, his back against the headboard. 

John handed him one of the paper cups and sat across from him on the unoccupied bed. “I was thinking we should get out of here, stop for breakfast on the road.”

Dean took a sip of the scalding coffee and allowed his brain to wake up more fully before replying. “You find a hunt or something?”

John shook his head. “I told you, no more hunts until this curse is broken.” He paused briefly before adding, “One way or another.”

“So, where to, then?”

John shrugged slightly. “Nowhere in particular. I would just prefer to be on the road rather than holed up here.” He frowned at Dean. “Unless you’d rather stay.”

Dean snorted and held up one bandaged wrist. “I think I’ve had enough of what Columbus, Montana has to offer, thanks,” he said dryly.

“How are they feeling?” John asked.

Dean shrugged. “I can still feel them, but they aren’t throbbing like they were.”

“You need to keep the stitches dry for a good 24 hours but I can wrap some plastic around them if you want to take a shower,” John offered.

Dean took another swallow of his coffee, then nodded his head. “Fine. Plastic or no plastic, I’m taking a shower.”

John put his coffee down and went to his bag. When he returned, he had a plastic bag and a roll of tape. After tearing the bag in half, he held out his hand and Dean offered his left wrist, watching as John wrapped the plastic around it and taped it securely.

“You’re still really hot,” Dean said with a small frown.

John snorted. “Thanks, I’ve tried not to let myself go.”

Dean rolled his eyes but couldn’t resist a small snicker. “You know what I meant; has it let up at all?”

John shook his head as he finished with the injured wrist and waited for Dean to switch his coffee to the other hand so he could start on the second. “Not since around midnight.”

Dean thought about that as he watched his dad work. “Bobby said it would get worse as it got closer to the end.”

“Yeah, well, Bobby usually knows what he’s talking about,” John said wryly.

“But it’s not making you …” Dean trailed off as he tried to figure out how best to finish his question.

“Want to fuck you six ways to Sunday?” John offered bitterly. “Unfortunately, that part hasn’t changed.”

“Then why aren’t you?” Dean asked with a frown. “Are you seriously trying to fight it off now? When we’re finally in the home-stretch?”

John looked up at him with a tight-lipped expression. “I’m not fighting it off,” he said irritably. “I’m just trying to hold it at bay for as long as I can.”

“Until you’re out of your mind with it, you mean,” Dean accused flatly. “I thought we agreed it was a better idea to take care of it while you still had some control.”

“That was when I thought I _had_ some control,” John snapped. “This thing doesn’t give a damn what I want and it sure as Hell doesn’t care how you feel. If I can stall it off a little then I’m damned well going to do it.”

“The more you stall the worse the fever gets,” Dean reminded him, his own temper rising. “How long do you think you can walk around with it as high as it was yesterday?” 

“I’m handling it,” John grated.

“Until you drop dead,” Dean countered. “You can be as stubborn as you want about the rest of it, but that’s not going to stop the fever from killing you.”

“I know that,” John hissed.

“If you did, then we wouldn’t be having this same argument over and over,” Dean said. When John only glared at him defiantly, he shook his head in disgust, throwing the covers back and getting to his feet. “I’m going for a shower,” he said flatly.

He was barely through the bathroom door when John grabbed him from behind, pushing him up against the sink. “This what you want?” John hissed in his ear as he ground his denim clad cock against Dean’s ass.

Dean glared at John’s reflection in the mirror. “Get the fuck off me,” he growled. 

“I thought you wanted me to fuck you,” John taunted, undulating his hips against Dean.

“What I _wanted_ was not to feel like I’m the only one who gives a shit whether you fucking live or die,” Dean said, still glowering at John’s reflection. He saw a flicker of something resembling regret flash through his dad’s eyes but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared.

“All I care about right now is getting inside that tight ass of yours,” John growled, reaching around to grasp Dean’s cock through his boxers.

The words were a stark reminder that, while it might be John’s body pinning him to the sink, it wasn’t his father calling the shots. Dean closed his eyes briefly as his traitorous dick began responding to the skillful touch, despite the fact that he was still annoyed. “Yeah, well, maybe I’m just not in the mood,” he said, hearing the tinge of petulance in his own voice.

John chuckled, leaning close to whisper in his ear. “Too bad.”

The fact that those two words made Dean's cock twitch was something he didn’t want to examine too closely. “Want to move this to the bed?” he asked as John continued to work his cock in a manner that had Dean hard faster than he thought possible.

“We could,” John said, pulling Dean’s boxers down to mid-thigh and kissing the side of his neck. “But I’d rather move it to the shower.”

Dean looked at John’s reflection in the mirror. “You sure about that? Shower-sex can be … complicated.”

John chuckled again, the deep sound rumbling against Dean’s neck. “That’s what makes it so much fun,” he said, stroking Dean’s bare cock with just the right amount of pressure.

Dean closed his eyes, enjoying the sensation off John working his cock just the way he liked it. “Yeah, OK,” he breathed.

John kissed the side of his neck again before nudging Dean’s boxers down a little more until they fell to the floor. Taking a step back, he waited for Dean to step out of them before John turned Dean’s nude body to face him and pulled him in for a hard, demanding kiss. “Get in,” he said, jerking his head toward the shower once he’d released Dean’s lips. He took off his shirt and pulled a tube of lube from the pocket of his jeans as he watched Dean start the shower and step under the spray. After shedding the remainder of his clothes, he joined him, placing the lube on one of the small ledges.

“This is nice,” John said, snaking his arms around Dean’s waist from behind and kissing one wet shoulder. He rubbed his hard cock between the cheeks of Dean’s ass for a minute before reaching for the soap and washcloth. 

“Crowded, is what it is,” Dean said, tensing a little as John began washing his shoulders and back. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had actually _bathed_ him, not while he was well enough to do it himself, anyway.

“That’s not always a bad thing,” John murmured, pressing himself against Dean’s back as he reached around and began to wash his chest, starting at his shoulders and then moving lower, paying attention to each nipple before moving on to his stomach. He smiled when he reached Dean’s cock and found him still hard. After thoroughly soaping the turgid member, he paid the same attention to his balls before running the cloth around one hip and back to his ass. “Spread your legs a little,” he instructed.

Dean braced one hand against the shower wall and widened his stance, his breath catching as John ran the soapy washcloth between his cheeks and over his hole. After repeating the motion a few times, John tossed the cloth aside and grasped Dean’s hips.

“Now that you’re nice and clean, I’m going to dirty you up again,” John said on a chuckle. “Let’s turn this around so you’re facing the other wall.”

It wasn’t easy with two men of their size in the small enclosure, but they finally managed it, Dean facing the wall at the other end of the tub, John behind him, the shower spray raining down on his shoulders.

“Brace your hands on the wall and bend over for me so I can get you ready,” John said as he reached for the lube.

Dean assumed the position and closed his eyes while John lubed his fingers and pressed the first one in slowly. 

“Still so tight,” John murmured, wrapping his free arm around Dean’s waist to support him while he worked the finger in and out a few times. When he added the second, he began to scissor and twist them, loosening Dean’s hole in preparation for his cock. “That’s it,” he breathed. “Nice and loose and open for me.”

Dean moaned quietly when John withdrew his fingers and pushed his cock slowly inside until it was buried deep.

“I wish I could stay buried in this hot ass all day,” John said, pulling out and pushing back in with a groan. He moved his arm from Dean’s waist to his chest and pulled back until the younger man was standing straight, his back to John’s chest. “Would you like that?” John whispered in his ear as he grasped Dean’s cock with one hand and began to stroke it. “You want to feel my cock inside you all… day ... long?” He punctuated each of the last three words with a deep thrust that had Dean’s breath catching in his throat.

“Not gonna last long,” John said with a groan as he continued to piston in and out of the slick hole. “Your wet body in my arms, you ass clamped around my cock.” He pulled out almost all the way and thrust in hard. “Fuck,” he breathed, once hand still stroking Dean’s cock while the other reached up to pinch first one and then the other nipple. “You have no fucking idea how hot you are like this.”

Dean was already climbing toward the peak with the physical stimulation and John’s words served to push him that much higher. “Fuck, I’m close,” he gasped as he felt the familiar burn low in his belly. His hands were opening and closing against the wet tile as John played his body like a well-tuned instrument. “Fuck.”

John groaned and bit down on Dean’s shoulder as he quickened his pace, his cock ramming in and out faster and harder with every thrust. “I wanna see you,” John said, peering down at where his hand was stroking Dean’s cock. “Come for me before I fill that hot ass of yours.”

The added stimulation of the words and John’s teeth on his shoulder was all it took to send Dean soaring over the edge with a strangled cry.

“That’s it,” John murmured, kissing the spot he had bitten as he worked Dean through his orgasm. Between the sight of Dean’s cock erupting and the tight ass clenching around his cock, he was powerless to hold off any longer and thrust deep, holding himself there while he groaned out his release into the pliant body. “Jesus,” he gasped once he’d finished pumping his load into the tight channel. He took a moment to catch his breath, then, with a steady hand on Dean’s hip, he carefully pulled out. “You OK?” he asked once they were separated.

Dean nodded slowly. “Yeah.”

John kissed Dean’s shoulder. “I’ll start packing while you shower,” he said quietly. He turned under the spray and quickly washed himself off before getting out of the shower, grabbing a towel and leaving Dean to his privacy 

By the time Dean exited the bathroom, John was dressed and packing things into his bag.

“I want to change those dressings before we leave,” John said over his shoulder.

“Yeah, I know,” Dean said as he grabbed clean clothes out of his own bag and began pulling them on. Once he was dressed, he sat on the edge of one of the beds and waited for John to join him with the supplies he’d need.

“They look good,” John said as he removed the bandages and examined the stitches. “No sign of infection. How do they feel?”

“Same way stitches always feel,” Dean said with a slight shrug. “They’re starting to itch, but the bites don’t hurt as much as they did.”

John nodded grimly at the reminder of how Dean had been injured. “Itching means they’re healing,” John said needlessly as he applied an antibiotic ointment to the wounds, “but it might be a good idea to keep them covered for another day or two so that your sleeves don’t irritate them.”

Dean nodded and watched as his dad applied fresh bandages to both wrists. 

After a moment, John broke the silence. “It’s not that I don’t care whether I live or die,” he said quietly. “I just care about you and your brother more.”

Dean sighed wearily. “I get that,” he said, “I do. And I know your first instinct is to protect us, me, in this case, but…”

“But?” John prodded, one eyebrow cocked.

“But like it or not, your judgement can’t be trusted right now,” Dean said, meeting his father’s gaze. “For all we know, the curse is making you want to stall so the fever can finish you off since the plan to push me away didn’t work.”

John frowned a little. “A failsafe for the failsafe,” he murmured.

“Exactly,” Dean said, relieved that John was with it enough to grasp what he was saying. “We’ve got less than a day and if it really wants you dead, we can’t take any chances. Our best bet is to finish it off the way it was intended.”

“You’re probably right,” John said quietly after a moment.

Trying to lighten the mood a little, Dean pulled a face as if to say any other notion was ludicrous. “Of course I am,” he said.

John’s lips twitched slightly as he finished with Dean’s bandages. “There, that should do it.”

“Awesome,” Dean said, flexing his hands once. “Now if you still want to get out of here, I say we hit the road because I’m starving.”

After eating breakfast at a small diner near the motel, they made their way back to the car, Dean heading toward the driver’s side. Without question, John tossed him the keys and folded himself into the passenger seat.

“Let me guess, toward Sioux Falls?” Dean asked as he started the car.

“Might as well,” John said on a sigh. “Come tomorrow, Bobby’s going to want proof that you’re still in one piece.” He glanced at the bandaged wrists. “More or less.”

They drove in relative silence for a while, both enjoying the music coming from the tape deck. They were no more than an hour outside of Columbus, when John shifted in his seat. “Uh, Dean? You’re going to need to pull off somewhere soon.”

Dean glanced at him, then nodded. “Yeah, OK.”

“Take that turnoff up there,” John instructed, pointing toward a dirt road that led off the highway. It was flanked by tall trees on both sides and would probably lead to a suitably private spot.

Dean followed his direction, turning onto the dirt road and driving until another, even less traveled, road branched off of that. He turned in and looked around at the surrounding trees that would shield them from prying eyes. “This should do it,” he said, turning off the ignition.

John nodded and got out of the car, pulling the lube out of his jacket pocket. “Lower your pants and bend over the hood,” he said once Dean joined him.

Dean was just starting to open the button on his jeans when he froze, the unmistakable sound of a shotgun being cocked breaking the morning silence.

“Something I can do for you?” a grizzled old man demanded, eyes darting between the two strangers.

“Uh,” Dean said, as he looked toward his dad 

“Just answering the call of nature,” John said, offering his most convincing smile.

“That a fact,” the man said, eyes narrowing as he took in the bandages on Dean’s wrists. “That why you’re orderin’ him over the hood of your car like some sorta pervert?

John gaped at him for a moment. “That was an inside joke,” he explained. “You wouldn’t get it.”

“Be surprised what I’d get,” the man said. “Just cuz I’m old don’t mean I don’t know what goes on.”

“I’m sure you do,” John placated him. “This your land?”

“Damned right it is,” the man replied firmly as he shifted the shotgun to aim squarely at John. “Now you’d best tell me what you’re really up to, here. There’s a rest stop not a mile down the road if you gotta piss.”

“We didn’t realize that,” Dean said with his most charming smile. “We’ll just be on our way, then.”

The man looked from Dean to John and back again, though he kept the gun trained on John. “Is he hurtin’ you, son? Ain’t no shame in askin’ for help. If you’re not with ‘im of your own free will, just say the word and I’ll call the cops.”

“I’m not…” John sputtered in outrage.

“Shut it,” the man said, readying the weapon to fire. “I wasn’t askin’ you.”

“Whoa,” Dean said, holding up his hands. “Take it easy. We _are_ the cops.”

The man looked at Dean in surprise and Dean gestured toward his pocket. “May I?”

When the man nodded uncertainly, Dean slowly pulled his ID from his pocket. “FBI. This is my partner. We were working a missing person case in Columbus.”

“Heard about that,” the man said. “It’s all over the news that two of them folks was murdered.”

“That’s true,” Dean said. “My partner and I located the suspects and that’s when I was injured. You can call Sheriff Connelly and ask him if you want.”

The man looked at John warily. “It also said two of them survived.”

“One, actually,” John said. “Simon Cooper. Joe Reed and Shirley Barnett were the two who were killed.”

“You got a badge, too?” the man asked.

“In the car,” John said. 

“Get it.”

John went to the car and took his FBI ID out of the glove compartment to show the man. Only then did he lower the weapon. “Sorry about that, Agent,” he said.

“No problem,” John said grimly. “I take it we can go now.”

The man nodded. “Might wanna wait for a rest stop next time.”

John glared at him briefly before walking around the car to get into the driver’s seat.

Once inside the car, Dean handed him the keys and nodded at the man with a polite smile as John started the car and executed a three-point turn to get them headed back toward the main road. Once on the highway, Dean snickered.

“I didn’t think that was funny,” John growled.

Dean laughed, then. “That’s because you didn’t see the look on your face when you realized he’d heard you.”

“A couple minutes later and he would have done more than just hear us,” John pointed out.

Dean snickered again before looking at his dad’s profile. “You still need to stop? I hear there’s a rest stop not a mile down the road.”

“Oh, we’ll be stopping all right,” John said grimly, “but not at a damned rest stop. When I _do_ bend you over the hood of this car, it’s not going to be with a fucking audience.”

Something in John’s tone of voice made Dean swallow heavily and he turned his attention to the road ahead, looking for a more suitable place to pull over. “How about there?” he said, nodding toward what looked to be an abandoned gas station.

John pulled in without comment and drove behind the dilapidated building, well out of sight from the highway. He put the car in park but left it running, applying the emergency brake before getting out of the car.

Once Dean had followed and joined him at the front of the car, John pulled him into a hard kiss. “I’m going to fuck you,” he growled. “Still think it’s funny?”

Dean smirked. “Trust me, the memory of you looking like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar by a man twice your age and half your size is never _not_ going to be funny.”

John’s lips twitched. “Drop the pants and turn around, smartass.”

While Dean complied, John took off his jacket and laid it over the hood of the car, knowing that it would be warm, especially since it was still running. When Dean turned around, his ass bare, John bent him over the hood and pressed up against him. “How does it feel?” John purred in his ear. “Knowing that I’m going to take you hard and fast without even bothering to turn off the car?”

Dean closed his eyes against the sensations flowing through him, the rumble of the engine beneath his chest, the warmth of the hood through John’s jacket against his cheek, John’s fully clothed hard-on pressed against his bare ass. “Get on with it, then,” he said.

John chuckled and slapped Dean’s bare ass once before pulling the lube out of his pocket and slicking his fingers. He roughly prepared Dean’s hole, then pulled his cock out of his jeans, coating it quickly before pushing into the warm body with no further warning.

Dean had to stifle a yelp as John plunged in to the hilt on the first push. “Fuck,” he breathed.

“That’s the plan,” John murmured on a chuckle as he pulled out and slammed back in, getting a thrill out of the way Dean went up on his toes to accommodate the hard thrust. “Going to work this ass so good you’ll be squirming in your seat for the rest of the day.”

True to his word, John set up a hard, fast rhythm, going deep with each thrust before pulling out and slamming in again. All Dean could do was hang on for the ride as he was rocked against the hood, his half-hard cock protected from the heat of the metal only by the thin layer of John’s jacket.

“Still so fucking tight,” John growled, grinding his hips against Dean’s ass before pulling out and thrusting back in. He had Dean’s hips in a tight grasp, pulling them back to meet every brutal stroke. “Gonna fill you up, boy,” he hissed as he began to pump his sticky seed into the other man’s ass. 

Dean was breathing heavily by the time John had finished and pulled out. Straightening slowly, he reached to pull up his jeans, not caring that he hadn’t found his own release.

“Uh uh,” John said as he tucked himself in. “I want to watch you get yourself off, with your jeans pooled around your ankles and my come leaking out of your ass.”

Dean could feel his cheeks warming at the idea, but he reached for his cock and began stroking, twisting his hand slightly at the head, aware that John was watching every move. It didn’t take long until he was gasping out his release into his palm, his eyes half-closed as he watched John watch him.

“Good,” John said once he was done. “Now pull up your pants but leave them open.” He smirked. “I want easy access while we’re on the road.” With that, he turned and headed for the driver’s door.

Dean’s eyes narrowed slightly but he’d be damned if he was going to risk screwing things up after everything they’d already done to break the curse. Pulling up his jeans, he left them unfastened as he joined John in the car.

A few minutes after they’d pulled onto the highway, Dean knew exactly what John had meant by easy access. Every few minutes, John would reach over and fondle Dean’s spent dick, not with any real intent, but as though he got a kick out of knowing he could. After a while, he just left his hand there, his fingers cradling Dean’s cock and balls in a loose grip.

They’d been driving a little over an hour when John broke the silence. “We should get a room, let you get cleaned up.”

Dean grimaced at the reminder of the cooling come that had leaked out of his ass to pool in his jeans. “Yeah.”

John glanced at him with a small frown. “Something wrong? You’ve hardly said two words since the gas station.”

Dean snorted. “Yeah, well, topics of conversation are limited when a guy’s got his hand on my dick.”

John shot him a wicked grin. “They don’t have to be. We could talk about all the ways I’m going to fuck you once we get a room. Standing up, sitting down…”

“I get it,” Dean said, cutting off the commentary as his cock began to show some interest. “Let’s just get the room first and we’ll deal with the rest of it later.”

“Sounds like a plan,” John said, grinning as he squeezed Dean’s cock lightly and felt it respond in his hand. 

After a few minutes, a motel came into view. “We’ll stop up here,” John said, releasing his hold on Dean’s dick. “Make yourself presentable unless you want to give a free show to anybody who walks by the car.”

“You’re the one who wanted me unpresentable in the first place,” Dean muttered as he tucked himself in and fastened his jeans.

John chuckled as he pulled up to the registration office and put the car in park. “I’ll be right back.” A couple of minutes later, he returned with a key and proceeded to drive down to the end of the row and park in front of their door. They got out of the car and grabbed their gear from the trunk like they always did, but once inside the room, their usual routine took a sudden detour.

Dean was barely through the door when John grabbed him and pushed him up against it, closing it in the process. “What the fuck?” he exclaimed, more because the sudden move had startled him than anything else.

John chuckled darkly, nipping at one of Dean’s earlobes. “I figured since you already need a shower, I might as well add another load to what’s already in your ass.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “I hate to break it to you, but what was in my ass is now in my pants, which I was hoping to get out of sooner rather than later.”

“Oh, I fully intend to get you out of your pants,” John replied with a hint of amusement. “Reach up and grab the top of the door frame.” 

Dean had to drop the bag he was still carrying but he raised his arms and grabbed onto the top of the door frame like John had instructed.

“Good,” John said, kicking the bag out of the way. “Now keep them there,” he added as he reached around and unfastened Dean’s jeans. As he pulled them, along with the boxers, down over Dean’s ass, he hummed at the sticky mess he found there. “You’re right,” he murmured as he continued to lower the pants past Dean’s thighs to his knees. “You’ve got quite a mess back here.” He pushed one finger into the sticky hole. “I can’t wait to make it even worse.” He withdrew his finger and wiped it on Dean’s pants before pulling the clothing the rest of the way down. When he got to Dean’s boots, he untied them and pulled them off, tossing them aside. Once they were gone, he steadied Dean while the younger man stepped out of his jeans and boxers. “There,” John said, straightening to stand with his body pressed to Dean’s. “You’re out of your pants, sooner rather than later.”

“Not exactly what I had in mind,” Dean quipped.

John chuckled. “Thankfully, all that matters is what _I_ have in mind.”

“And what’s that?” Dean asked, turning his head to cock one eyebrow at John.

“I’m going to fuck you right here against this door,” John promised in a breathy whisper. “Anybody walking by will be able to hear as I pound into that tight little ass of yours.”

Dean turned his head back to rest his forehead against the door. “We’re in the end unit,” he pointed out. “Nobody walks by.”

John pulled his already hard cock out and coated it with lube before pressing two fingers into Dean’s ass. “Maybe I’ll call the office,” he murmured. “Tell them we have a problem with the room.”

Dean moaned quietly as John’s fingers went deep, curving to stroke his prostate.

“Then I’ll hold you right here like this until they get down here,” John continued, his tone deep and dirty. “And as soon as they knock on the door, I’ll start to fuck you, make them wait out there until we’re done, then have you answer with my jizz running down your legs.”

“Jesus,” Dean breathed.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” John chuckled.

Dean didn’t answer, the ‘no’ that immediately came to mind being overshadowed by how hard imagining the scenario had made him. 

“Nothing wrong with that,” John assured him with a soft kiss to the side of his neck. “In fact…”

A knock at the door made Dean jump before he realized it was John. “Asshole,” he muttered.

John chuckled as he pushed his cock into Dean’s hole. “Maybe later we’ll go out and find a hooker,” he suggested as he started stroking in and out at a slow, leisurely pace. “Bring her back here and let her watch while I fuck you.” He began going a little faster, his fingers no doubt leaving bruises on Dean’s hips as he held him steady. “And when I’m done, she can lick my come from your ass.”

Dean moaned, the combination of the words and the feeling of John’s cock raking his prostate too much to resist.

“Bend your leg up,” John ordered.

It took Dean a moment to realize what the words meant but when he did, he lifted his right leg, bending it at the knee and gasping as John hooked his arm under and hiked it a little higher. He was balancing on one leg, but John was holding him steady even as he continued to fuck into him.

“Oh yeah,” John said, ramming hard into Dean’s hole. “So much deeper this way.”

Dean couldn’t deny that. Any deeper and he swore he’d be feeling John’s cock in the back of his throat. John’s next thrust was even harder and angled upward, making Dean go up on his toes.

“That’s it,” John encouraged, wrapping his free arm around Dean’s waist to steady him. “Gonna lift you right off your fucking feet.” He continued to fuck harder and faster into the warm body, delighting in every gasp, every whimper that escaped Dean’s lips. “Can you come like this? Without touching your cock?”

“I don’t know,” Dean gasped as a particularly hard thrust nearly _did_ lift him off his feet, or rather, his foot. “But I’m close,” he panted.

John leaned in to whisper in his ear. “Then come for me.” He ground his cock into Dean’s ass, pushing hard against his prostate.

The added stimulation was all Dean needed and he came with a long, low moan.

“Good boy,” John murmured as he continued to fuck Dean through his orgasm. Once the younger man was spent, John picked up the pace again, slamming into the sated body until he, too, came undone, groaning as he shot his load. He took a moment to come down before lowering Dean’s leg, waiting until he was steady on both feet before releasing his hold altogether and taking a couple of steps back. “You’re going to be the death of me,” he said wearily as he tucked himself into his jeans.

Dean snorted and turned around. “Just remember it’s actually the opposite result we’re going for, here.” He leaned over and picked up his jeans and boxers. “I’m going for a shower.”

He was almost to the bathroom door when John stopped him. “Dean?” he said quietly.

Dean turned, one eyebrow climbing. “Yeah?”

“I don’t know what’s going to happen, exactly, but if this morning is any indication, it’s going to be a rough day for you.”

“Not the first rough day I’ve had, won’t be the last,” Dean said, trying to be reassuring. “I can handle it.”

John looked at him for a moment before smiling slightly. “Yeah, OK. Go on and shower and then we can grab lunch.”

Dean closed the bathroom door and leaned against it for a moment, his eyes closed. Rough or not, he had no doubt it was going to be a long day, but if his dad was still alive in the morning, it would be worth it. With that encouraging thought in mind, he pulled off the rest of his clothes and stepped into the shower.

End of part 10


	11. Chapter 11

After Dean showered, they went in search of a place to have some lunch. 

“I can’t believe how hungry I am,” John said as he pulled the car into the parking lot of a small restaurant. “We just had breakfast a few hours ago.”

Dean snorted. “Yeah, well, you’ve expended a lot of energy in those hours.”

John shot him a small frown but didn’t say anything as they got out of the car and entered the restaurant. They spied an empty booth and made their way toward it, Dean smiling at the pretty waitress when she looked up from pouring coffee at a nearby table.

They were only seated a moment before that same waitress was at their booth, smiling at the two of them. “Hi,” she greeted them as she handed them each a menu. “I’m Wendy and I’ll be your server. Can I get you something to drink while you’re deciding?”

“Some water would be nice,” John said, forcing a smile.

Dean glanced at him in concern, knowing the fever had been burning for hours without relief. He looked up at Wendy and flashed his most charming smile. “Sounds good. If you could bring a pitcher and a couple of glasses, that would be awesome.”

“Sure thing,” she said before leaving them alone at the table.

Dean watched her walk away, appreciating the view.

“I could make myself scarce, if you want,” John grumbled from across the table. “Not that my presence has ever slowed you down in the past.”

Dean frowned at him for a minute before rolling his eyes and turning his attention to the menu. When Wendy returned with the water a short time later, she poured them each a glass and placed the pitcher on the table as requested. “Did you need a few more minutes with the menu?” she asked, looking between the two men.

“I’ll have a toasted club on white,” John said, handing the menu back.

“Same but with a side of fries,” Dean said with a smile. When he caught himself once again watching the sway of her hips as she walked away, he glanced at John, only to find the other man watching him with an odd expression on his face. “What?” 

“All the sex you’ve had in the past week and you’re still looking for more,” John said.

Dean frowned irritably. “I wasn’t _looking_ for anything,” he defended himself, “but that doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate a pretty girl when I see one.”

John grinned lewdly. “Yeah, just like I can appreciate a fine piece of ass when I see one,” he said, his eyes raking down Dean’s body as far as possible with the table in the way. “Maybe I should bend you over this table right now. Show the pretty girl and everybody else in here that you’re not on the menu.”

Dean was swallowing a mouthful of water when the words registered and nearly choked before staring at his dad in shock. “What the Hell’s the matter with you?” he hissed, glancing around. “We’re in public, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

John leaned closer. “I don’t care. All I can think about is pounding that sweet ass of yours.”

In the advanced stages of the curse, there was a good chance that really _was_ all John could think about, Dean realized. Which meant a public restaurant had been a bad idea. He glanced around again before getting to his feet and making his way over to where Wendy stood at a small cart laden with condiments. “Uh, excuse me, Wendy?”

She turned and smiled at him uncertainly. “Oh, hey. Is there something I can get for you?”

“Yeah, I was hoping we could get that order to go,” Dean said, glancing back at John. “My dad’s not feeling very well all of a sudden and I think I should take him back to the motel where he can get some rest.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” she said, glancing briefly in John’s direction. “Of course; I’ll bag it up for you. If you need a doctor, there’s a small clinic in Fergus,” she added helpfully.

“Thanks, but I don’t think it’s anything serious,” Dean assured her. “We’ve been on the road a while and he probably just needs to get some decent sleep.”

She nodded. “I’ll just go tell the cook your order is going to be take-out,” she said, moving toward the pass-through window.

Dean stayed where he was, not wanting to get too close to John and have him actually start something before they could get out of the small but crowded restaurant.

“Here you go,” Wendy said when she returned with a take-out bag a few minutes later. She looked at the bill. “That comes to twelve dollars.”

Dean pulled some money out of his wallet and handed it to her with a small smile. “Keep the change.”

“Thanks,” she said. “I hope your dad’s feeling better soon.”

He smiled his appreciation of the comment, then sighed as he turned to look at John. “Yeah, you and me both.” Steeling himself, he went back over to the booth where his dad still sat. “I got the food to go,” he said, not bothering to sit down. “We can eat it back at the motel.”

John looked at him for a moment before nodding with a lecherous smile and getting to his feet. “Looks like I’m not the only one anxious to get back to the room,” he said.

“More like I’m _not_ anxious to go to jail for public indecency,” Dean muttered, turning to head out of the restaurant. He went straight to the driver’s side, holding up his hand for his dad to toss him the keys and relieved when he did so without argument. 

The minute they were back in the motel room, John was peeling off his jacket and issuing orders. “Get your clothes off and bend over the table,” he said gruffly.

Dean was just placing the bag of food on the table and turned to face his dad with a raised eyebrow. “We’re not eating first?”

John shook his head as he closed the distance between them and began working on Dean’s fly. “I need that ass more than I need food right now,” he muttered. Smirking, he added, “But if you think you can eat with my cock up your ass, be my guest.”

Dean wrinkled his nose as he glanced at the bag of food. “Thanks, but I think I’ll pass,” he said dryly.

“Get your jacket and shirts off,” John instructed as he began lowering Dean’s jeans and boxers. “I want you naked.”

Between the two of them, Dean was naked in a matter of seconds. “Turn around and bend over,” John said, one hand undoing his own fly, the other reaching into his pocket for the lube.

Dean clenched his jaw at the abrupt command, but turned and braced his hands on the table, bending at the waist. The prep was minimal, John shoving two lubed fingers in and out a few times before withdrawing and pushing in with his dick. Dean bit his lip to stifle the hiss of discomfort at the harsh entry.

“This is good,” John murmured as he grasped Dean’s hips and began fucking him hard and fast. “Exactly the way I pictured taking you back at that restaurant.”

Dean closed his eyes and hung on for the ride, knowing it wasn’t going to last long. After only a few minutes, John was pounding into him one last time and holding there, grunting as he found his release.

John patted Dean’s ass as he pulled his softening cock out. “Now we can eat,” he said, tucking himself back in.

Dean straightened and grimaced as he felt the come running down his thigh. “I need to clean up first,” he said, bending to pick up his jeans and boxers before disappearing into the bathroom.

Once they’d both cleaned up, they ate in relative silence, Dean all too aware that John wasn’t himself. That thought was underscored when John wrapped his arms around Dean’s waist from behind while Dean cleared the remnants of their lunch from the table.

“You didn’t get to come last time,” John murmured in Dean’s ear.

“Doesn’t matter,” Dean said truthfully. What they were doing wasn’t about mutual gratification but about satisfying the components of a curse John probably didn’t even realize he was under at the moment. Any time he _did_ get to come was merely a bonus.

John put his hands on Dean’s shoulders and turned him until they were face to face. “It matters if I say it matters,” he said, kissing Dean’s lips lightly, “but I’m going to make it up to you.” 

Before Dean had a chance to wonder what that might entail, John pulled him into a long, deep kiss. While his mind knew that it was the curse, there was no way he could deny the fact that there was real emotion being telegraphed in the way John’s arms cradled him, the way his mouth plundered Dean’s as though it was a delicacy to be savored. By the time their lips parted, Dean’s head was swimming with equal parts arousal and awe at the depth of feeling John could convey with one kiss.

“Let’s get you out of these clothes,” John said with a smirk as he began undoing Dean’s jeans.

Since he hadn’t bothered to pull on more than a t-shirt and jeans after the last time, it wasn’t long before Dean was naked once again. Unlike the previous time, however, John removed his own clothing as well before pulling Dean into another heated kiss, moaning low in his throat when Dean returned it in kind.

“On the bed,” John murmured between kisses as he moved them in the direction he wanted. “On your hands and knees so I can open you up.”

Dean moved into position in the middle of the bed, his head hanging between his shoulders as he exposed his bare ass to John who crawled up to kneel behind him.

“So fucking perfect,” John whispered, running his hands appreciatively over the smooth flesh of Dean’s ass. He reached for the lube and coated the fingers of one hand before pushing one slick digit into Dean’s hole. “I know you’re sore,” he soothed, hearing the hitch in Dean’s breath and using his other hand to stroke Dean’s flank in a comforting gesture, “but in a couple of minutes, you’ll forget all about that, I promise.” He pushed the finger deeper, curling it to stroke against Dean’s prostate and smiling at the moan of pleasure that escaped the younger man’s lips. He continued to stroke the sensitive bundle of nerves for a few minutes, delighting in every gasp and breathy moan his moves elicited, before adding a second finger and proceeding to scissor and stretch the tight opening. He continued to work Dean’s prostate, even as he added a third finger to the mix. “How does that feel?” he asked, pushing a little harder on the sweet spot and watching Dean’s back arch in response. “Tell me.”

“Feels…” Dean panted, “Feels good.”

John chuckled. “It’s going to feel even better.” He pulled his fingers from Dean’s ass and lubed his cock before positioning it at the prepared hole. He pushed in slowly until he was completely buried, then allowed Dean a moment to adjust before reaching up to grasp the younger man’s shoulder. “Up on your knees,” he instructed gently.

Dean pushed himself up until he was kneeling on the bed, moaning quietly as John’s cock moved inside of him.

“Now sit back in my lap,” John continued to guide him, using his hands to draw Dean’s body back until he was seated, his ass clenching around John’s cock. “That’s it.” He kissed the side of Dean’s neck as he thrust his hips up, reveling in the gasp Dean let out as John’s cock speared him deeply. “So fucking beautiful like this,” John murmured, his hands running up over Dean’s stomach to his chest. He pinched both nipples between his fingers, enjoying the way Dean arched back against him, his head rolling on John’s shoulder. “Love the way you respond for me,” he whispered, kissing Dean’s neck again.

Dean couldn’t hold back a whimper as John began working his nipples between skilled fingers, pinching and pulling, every twinge racing straight to his dick. His nipples were already rock hard and throbbing but he still found himself alternating between arching into the pleasurable pain and away from it.

“That’s it,” John murmured as he continued to play with the sensitive nubs. “I bet I could get you off just like this, playing with your tits while my cock is buried deep in your ass.”

Dean groaned as John thrust his hips up, driving his cock impossibly deeper.

“But it won’t end there,” John promised, scraping his nails lightly over the sensitive nipples. “Once we both come, I’m going to keep you here, just like this, until we’re ready to go again.” He pinched the nipples a little harder. “Would you like that? Sitting here in my lap, feeling my cock grow hard inside you?” He shifted his hips again, a slow deep thrust. “Tell me.”

The earlier stimulation his prostate had received, combined with the continued assault on his nipples and John’s cock in his ass, had Dean in such a state of arousal that he would have agreed to almost anything. “Yes,” he panted.

John chuckled, nipping at one earlobe. “Yes, what?” he asked, running his calloused palms over Dean’s swollen nubs.

“I’d … I’d like that,” Dean managed, punctuating the words with a groan and arching his back when John pinched each nipple between his fingernails. 

John took full advantage of the movement as Dean squirmed in his lap, undulating his hips and stroking deep inside the warm channel. When he tugged on Dean’s nipples, the younger man would arch up off John’s lap, allowing John to thrust into him with better leverage. Using that knowledge, he set up a smooth rhythm, pulling and thrusting until Dean was a quivering mess in his arms. Unable to stand the temptation any longer, he pushed Dean forward a little and began pounding his ass harder. “Come for me,” he hissed, delivering a particularly hard pinch to both nipples.

Dean came with a strangled sob, his hole tightening around the cock in his ass like a vice and triggering John’s orgasm.

“Fuck,” John breathed as he pumped his release into the pulsing channel. Once he was spent, he pulled Dean back against him until he was once again fully seated. “You’re doing great,” he whispered, his hands running in soothing motions over Dean’s chest. “Just take a minute, catch your breath.”

“Stop,” Dean managed, gripping one of John’s wrists and pulling the hand away from his sore nipples.

“Yeah, OK,” John said, kissing his cheek in apology and running his hands down to rest on Dean’s upper thighs. A moment later, when Dean’s breathing had returned to normal, John nuzzled at the spot where Dean’s shoulder met his neck. “Can you still feel me inside you?”

Dean had his eyes closed and nodded wearily. “Yeah.”

John shifted his hips a little. “It’s softer than it was. I can feel my come starting to ooze out around it.” He bit down on Dean’s neck, then laved the mark with his tongue. “And you’re gonna stay right here and keep it warm for me until it’s nice and hard again, aren’t you?”

Dean didn’t think the question required a response but his eyes flew open when John reached up to pinch an already-sore nipple.

“Answer me, boy,” John said, maintaining his tight grip on the abused nubbin.

“Yes,” Dean gasped, hoping that would be enough. When John didn’t let go, he clenched his eyes closed against the pain. To his surprise, he felt his cock twitch. “Yes, I’m going to sit here, keep your cock warm until it’s hard.”

“Good boy,” John murmured, letting go of the nipple and kissing Dean’s jaw. “And then what’s going to happen?”

“Then you’re going to fuck me again,” Dean answered without hesitation, not wanting to give John another reason to add more abuse to his chest. 

“That’s right,” John said, shifting his hips again. “I’m getting hard again already, can you feel it?”

Dean was surprised that he actually _could_ feel John’s erection growing. “Yeah,” he said.

“I can only imagine what your hole looks like right now,” John murmured, undulating his hips. “All red and puffy, stretched around my cock, wet with my come.” He shifted his hips again. “Clench that pretty hole for me. Squeeze my cock with that ass of yours.” When Dean complied, he moaned. “Oh yeah, keep goin’. Work me good, get me hard enough to fuck you.”

Dean continued rhythmically squeezing John’s dick with his ass, unable to deny a tiny sense of pride as he felt what his efforts were doing to the length inside him.

“You’re too fucking good at that,” John growled, lifting Dean’s hips slightly and pulling him back down onto his cock. “I’m almost ready.”

Dean squeezed as tight as he could while grinding his ass down in John’s lap. He was too sated and sore to worry about coming again himself, but he knew his ass wouldn’t be getting a break until John fucked him again so he put everything he knew into getting him hard as soon as possible. He raised his ass off John’s cock nearly all the way and then slammed back down. “Come on, fuck me.”

“Fuck,” John hissed, grasping Dean’s hips hard and moving him up and down on his cock a few times. Not getting the leverage he wanted, he pushed Dean forward until he was on his hands and knees again and began pounding into him for all he was worth. “You want me to fuck you? You got it,” he growled as he slammed into the younger man’s body. After only a few minutes, he was coming again, his hips grinding against Dean’s ass as he added another load of come to what was already there. “Jesus,” he breathed once he was spent.

When John pulled out a moment later, Dean collapsed onto the mattress on his stomach. He knew he should go clean himself up, but he was too tired and sore to summon the strength to move.

“Stay here,” John said, as though reading his mind. 

Dean closed his eyes and could hear his dad go into the bathroom, only to return a moment later with a warm washcloth. He bit his lip but didn’t protest as John gently cleaned the mess between his legs but he couldn’t hold back a sharp hiss a moment later when one of John’s thick fingers touched his hole.

“This’ll make you feel better,” John promised, smearing a cool ointment over Dean’s puffy entrance. When he was through, he pulled a blanket off the other bed and covered Dean with it. “You should rest for a while.”

Dean snorted wearily at the very notion that he could do anything else. As he relaxed into the mattress, he thought about the fact that there was still a good portion of the day left and briefly wondered if it was actually possible for someone to be fucked to death.

The next time he opened his eyes, it was to find John beside him on the bed. “How long was I out?” he asked, stretching a little and wincing as the movement reminded him of the workout his ass had gotten earlier.

“About an hour,” John said. He was propped up on one elbow, watching Dean. “I might have been a little rough on you earlier and I wanted to see how you were doing. Turn over, let me take a look at your chest.”

Dean rolled onto his back under the blanket, then pulled it down and looked down at his chest. “You’re a sadistic bastard,” he said as he took in the mottled marks still visible around his nipples.

John chuckled. “You came pretty hard,” he said as he ran his fingers lightly over the bruised nubs. “You obviously like having them played with.”

“Played with, not ripped off my chest,” Dean grumbled, despite the fact that his dick was stirring under John’s gentle touches.

“Stay here, I’ve got just the thing,” John said as he got off the bed.

Dean was about to say that he didn’t want that lidocaine shit all over his chest when John returned with two washcloths and an ice bucket. Wrapping a few cubes of ice in each cloth, he placed them on Dean’s abused nipples. “How’s that?”

Dean let out a long breath, moving his hands to hold the makeshift icepacks in place. “Better,” he said as the cold began seeping into this throbbing flesh. 

“That’s good,” John said with a satisfied grin, “because I have an idea for that sore ass of yours.” He pulled the blanket back to expose the rest of Dean’s naked body. “Bring your knees up and let me have a look.”

After all they’d done, Dean still felt a flush of color in his cheeks at the thought of exposing his asshole to his father’s scrutiny, but knowing that the curse was still running rampant, he complied after only a brief hesitation. Closing his eyes, he bent his legs, planting his feet on the mattress and allowing his knees to fall open.

“Just like I thought, red and puffy,” John said as he trailed a finger around the swollen hole. “How does it feel?”

“Sore,” Dean said truthfully, thinking that an icepack might not be a bad idea.

John reached into the ice bucket and retrieved the tube of lube he’d stored there earlier. “This should help.” He squeezed a generous amount onto his fingers and smeared it over Dean’s hole, grinning at the surprised yelp that his actions elicited.

“That’s fucking cold,” Dean complained, glaring at John’s grinning features.

“That’s the idea,” John pointed out as he pushed some of the chilled lube into Dean’s ass. “But it’s not nearly as cold as what’s coming.” He picked one of the rounded cubes out of the ice bucket and slowly began pushing it into Dean’s hole.

“Fuck!” Dean hissed, instinctively pushing against the intrusion.

“This’ll go a lot easier for you if you don’t fight it,” John said conversationally as he pushed the ice cube as far as he could with his finger before reaching for another. “I’m not hurting you, just numbing you up a little. Trust me, you’ll thank me later.”

“Not fucking likely,” Dean grated. The cold was radiating through his whole body from his ass and he shuddered, cursing and pressing his head into the pillow as John pushed three more cubes into his ass.

He was panting heavily by the time John moved to lie beside him on the bed.

“Just breathe,” John soothed, kissing his shoulder. “It’ll get better.”

As Dean tried to regulate his breathing against the chill permeating him, John reached for Dean’s dick and began stroking it. The juxtaposition of the cold burn in his ass and the fevered heat of John’s hand on his cock had Dean’s senses reeling and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to stop it or let it engulf him completely.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” John murmured. “All numb from the cold.”

At the first touch of the ice to his ass, Dean had abandoned the bundles on his chest in favor of clutching the bedspread in a death-grip. John picked up one of the cubes that had fallen and traced it over Dean’s nipple, even as he continued to stroke his cock in the slow, steady rhythm. He moved from one nipple to the other, back and forth until the ice had completely melted before picking up another piece and starting all over again. Once he’d melted the second one completely, he leaned over and kissed Dean’s lips. “Let’s see how that ass of yours is doing.”

Relinquishing his hold on Dean’s half-hard cock, John knelt between the strong thighs, pushing his lubed finger into the glistening hole. “All melted,” he said, feeling around and then stroking Dean’s prostate a few times for good measure. “Want me to add some more?”

“No,” Dean gasped, shaking his head. “It’s fine.”

John chuckled. “You might not think so if you knew what I have in store for you.”

"Whatever it is, I can handle it," Dean said, hoping that was true.

John moved up on the bed, looking down at Dean with a small smile as though in approval of the words before leaning in to kiss him deeply. “I want to fuck you,” he murmured once their lips parted.

“Not exactly news,” Dean replied with what he hoped was a more confident smirk than he was actually feeling. It really _wasn’t_ news. John had wanted little more than to fuck him since the curse began. The fact that John was telling him that in the context of something he might not be able to handle worried him a little, but he knew he’d go along with whatever it was because John needed him to. His very _life_ depended on it.

John reached for Dean’s cock again and began stroking it with more intent than he had earlier. “But first, I want you to come so that you’re all relaxed and loose.”

“How loose, exactly?” Dean managed to ask, though John was working him toward orgasm sooner than he would have thought possible.

John kissed him again, reveling in the way Dean moaned in the back of his throat. “I’m going to coat that fake cock with your come and I’m going to fuck you with it.”

Dean groaned, remembering how full he’d felt with the dildo, and how vulnerable, with John being able to watch every second of what it did to him. The thought of it being coated with his own come made it dirtier, somehow, and apparently Dean’s cock approved as it grew even harder in John’s hand.

“And when you’re stuffed so full you don’t think you can take any more,” John murmured, nipping at Dean’s lower lip as he continued to pump him toward climax, “I’m going to see how many fingers I can get in alongside it.”

Whether it was John’s skilled hand job, the words or the image they conjured in his mind, Dean wasn’t sure, but he was coming with a gasp the minute the last word left John’s lips. “Fuck,” he breathed.

True to his word, John gathered up the come that spewed from Dean’s dick and used it to coat the dildo he’d already placed nearby. Moving between Dean’s legs, he pushed a couple of fingers in first, stretching and scissoring in preparation of the fake cock. “You’ve still got some lube in there from earlier,” he mused as he withdrew his hand and lined the dildo up. “Between that and your come, it should be enough.”

Dean held his breath as John began rocking the unyielding toy into his ass, pushing in just barely at first, then twisting and pulling out before pushing in again, a little further each time. He had the fleeting thought that it was going to take all day to get the whole thing inside him at that rate.

“I wish you could see this,” John said. “Even when it looks like your hole is stretched to its limit, your ass opens up to suck in a little bit more.” As though to prove his point, he pushed it in a little further, causing Dean to gasp. “You like that?” John asked with the hint of a smirk.

“Surprised me is all,” Dean muttered. “Until then you were going so fucking slow.”

John chuckled. “That’s half the fun. It’s turning me on like you wouldn’t believe.”

Dean snorted. “Like you need any help in that department these days.”

John hummed as though in agreement. "Pull your knees back.”

Dean grasped the back of each knee and pulled his legs back, giving John better access to his ass.

“Perfect,” John breathed, pulling the dildo out and pushing it in a little deeper. “

Dean tried to regulate his breathing as the toy filled him but by the time it was halfway in, he was panting slightly, sweat beginning to bead on his forehead and upper lip.

“Once it’s pushing on your prostate, you’ll appreciate it more,” John promised as he angled the fake cock in Dean’s channel.

“Fuck!” Dean cried out seconds later when the dildo hit its mark and sent what felt like electric currents through his whole body.

“Yahtzee,” John said on a chuckle. He kept the toy at that angle as he continued to stroke it in and out of Dean’s ass, loving every helpless sound Dean made as his prostate was worked mercilessly. “You can come if you need to,” John said. “I know it’s a lot of stimulation but we’re not done yet.”

Dean wasn’t sure he’d be able to come again so soon but even with the slight numbing of his ass, the constant pressure on his prostate made him feel like he was coming apart at the seams. He tried to concentrate on things he could control, like keeping his knees back, hoping that might take his mind off the fact that he already felt so full and John hadn’t even gotten the dildo all the way in, let alone his fingers.

“Feels bigger than last time,” he gasped, clenching his eyes shut as John pushed more of the unyielding plastic into his ass.

“Probably because you’re a little swollen,” John mused. “But you’re doing good, just another couple of inches to go.” He pushed one of those said inches in and twisted, grinning when Dean gasped. “I love watching you like this,” he said. He pushed the rest of the toy in without preamble, then prodded Dean to release his knees, stretching the long legs out on the bed. Moving up the mattress, he watched Dean’s features as he tried to get used to the fullness. “You’re so fucking hot,” he said, trailing his fingers through the perspiration on Dean’s forehead and then leaning in to kiss him, coaxing the full bottom lip from where Dean had been biting it between his teeth. 

Dean returned the kiss, hungry for anything that would provide him some relief from the arousal coursing through him. His ass was throbbing around the intruding object, his prostate sending sparks clear down to his toes. With a moan, he pulled John closer, kissing him like he wanted to devour him whole.

By the time John reluctantly ended the fervent kissing, his own lips were red and swollen. “Damn,” he breathed, his eyes searching every inch of Dean’s lust-filled expression. “Part of me wants to keep you just like this for the rest of your life.”

“Already seems like that long,” Dean said, his voice strained. 

John chuckled with one more quick kiss to the tempting lips before moving down between Dean’s legs again.

Dean bent his knees without being told, desperate for John to do whatever he needed to do that would put an end to the delicious torture.

John picked up the lube and coated his fingers liberally before instructing Dean to pull his legs back once again. When Dean complied, exposing his already-stuffed hole more fully, John moaned. “Damn. I just want to pull that thing out and fuck you right now.”

“No complaints here,” Dean groaned.

“But then we’d just have to start all over again,” John said in amusement as he stroked Dean’s thigh lightly with his clean hand. He used his lubed finger to trace around Dean’s tightly-stretched rim. “Hard to believe it can stretch even more than it already is,” he said, a hint of awe in his voice.

“You sure it’s even possible?” Dean asked, trying to regulate his breathing as he got used to the fullness in his ass.

“Oh, it’s possible,” John murmured. “Take a deep breath.” When Dean complied after only a brief hesitation, John began working his finger in alongside the toy. “Now let it out nice and slow.”

Dean exhaled as slowly as he could, ending on a gasp as he felt John’s finger push into him. He’d never been so full and the added intrusion was causing the dildo to put more pressure on his prostate. “Fuck,” he breathed.

John watched as he worked his finger in and out a few times. “This is every bit as hot as I thought it would be,” he said. “Let’s try for another.” Without waiting for a response, he began to work his middle finger in with the other, his other hand stroking Dean’s leg in a soothing motion. It took longer than the first, but he finally managed to get it inside, his gaze flicking up to Dean’s face. “How does that feel?”

“Like you’re fucking splitting me open,” Dean panted, his eyes clenched shut.

“You’re fine,” John assured him, returning his gaze to the place where two of his fingers were slowly going in and out of Dean’s ass alongside the black plastic. “You’re stretched real nice, but you’re not tearing.” He played with the hole a bit longer before asking, “Think you can handle one more?”

Dean’s head tossed on the pillow. “No, it’s too much,” he managed.

“Hmmm, maybe,” John mused before trying the third finger anyway.

Dean cried out as he was stretched impossibly further and John murmured something that was probably supposed to be comforting, though Dean couldn’t make out the words. When John pulled the dildo out a bit to facilitate the third finger, Dean let out a low moan.

“Oh yeah,” John breathed, one hand pushing the dildo slowly in and out while three fingers of the other hand were buried to the hilt in Dean’s ass. “Three fingers and a fake cock. That sweet ass is stuffed full.” He continued fucking Dean slowly with the dildo, watching as it disappeared into the tight hole alongside his fingers. “This is so fucking hot.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Dean gasped, punctuating the words with a whimper as the toy pushed on his prostate.

After a minute, John pulled the dildo out and tossed it on the bed, lining his cock up in its place. “Gonna fuck you, Dean,” he breathed as he pushed in alongside the fingers still in Dean’s ass. “Jesus,” he breathed as he filled the space left by the toy. He began fucking Dean with long, deep strokes, wriggling his fingers at the same time, his ears greedily swallowing up every gasp and whimper that escaped Dean’s lips. When he got to the point where he needed more, he withdrew his hand and pushed Dean’s legs back against his chest, allowing him to pound into the folded body harder and faster. “Touch yourself,” he ordered. “I’m not going to come until you do.”

Dean thought it was unlikely he’d manage another orgasm, but was surprised to find himself half-hard again when he grabbed his cock and began stroking it hard and fast.

“You were so good for me,” John breathed, as he paused in the pounding to grind his hips against Dean’s ass. “Letting me stuff you so full.” He pulled out and slammed back in, causing Dean to gasp. “Next time we’ll have to get more creative,” he said, pulling out slowly and then pushing in as deep as possible. “Maybe fuck you with a beer bottle,” he mused, “or that pearl-handle you love so much.” Dean’s breath hitched and John grinned. “Bet you’d like that, your favorite gun up your ass while I use my mouth to swallow you whole and suck you dry.”

Dean groaned long and low as his cock erupted in his hand. In addition to the dirty talk, the memory of what it felt like to have John’s talented mouth wrapped around his cock had triggered the orgasm he hadn’t even realized was so close.

“That’s my boy,” John said on a chuckle before he ramped up the speed and power of his thrusts, slamming into Dean’s pliant body again and again until he finally came with a muttered curse. After taking a moment to catch his breath, he pulled out and got to his feet beside the bed. “I’ll get you a washcloth,” he offered tiredly.

Dean stretched his legs out and made a face at the feeling of come cooling on his stomach as well as pooling between his legs. “Not gonna cut it,” he said. “I need a shower.”

John returned a moment later with the warm washcloth. “Use this to clean away as much as you can and I’ll run you a bath. It’ll do you good to soak those sore muscles for a bit.” Without waiting for a response, he grabbed something from his bag and disappeared into the bathroom.

When Dean heard the faucet turn on and the tub start to fill, he used the washcloth to wipe the mess from his stomach and then got to his feet to clean what he could from his ass and thighs. He winced a little as the cloth made contact with his sore hole and realized that, even though he had always been more of a shower-person, a hot bath sounded damned good at the moment. Glancing at his watch, he saw that they still had a good eight hours until the stroke of midnight. 

He only hoped he’d be able to last that long.

End of Chapter 11


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is late but all the drama in real-life seems to be over for the moment so back to John and Dean!

After soaking in the tub for nearly half an hour, Dean felt much better, partially due to the hot water and partially because of the Epsom salts John had thoughtfully added to the bath.

“I was about to check to make sure you hadn’t drowned,” John said, looking up from the laptop as Dean exited the bathroom wearing only a towel. “How do you feel?”

“Good,” Dean replied, rummaging through his bag for clean clothes. When he straightened, it was to find John right behind him.

“You won’t be needing those,” John said, taking the boxers out of Dean’s hand and tossing them aside. He turned the younger man to face him, pulling him close and tugging at the towel until it dropped to the floor. “Mmm, your skin’s all nice and warm from your bath,” he murmured as he ran his hands down Dean’s back to his ass, cupping the fleshy globes. He leaned in to kiss Dean deeply while he kneaded the cheeks in his hands. 

“Not as warm as yours,” Dean replied once John had released his lips. “You should drink something.”

“I downed four bottles of water while you were soaking,” John murmured, nuzzling at Dean’s jawline. “All I want right now is to fuck you,” he added, one hand moving around to grasp Dean’s flaccid cock. “You ready for that?”

“Do I have a choice?” Dean asked, closing his eyes as he felt his dick begin to harden in John’s hand.

“You do,” John breathed, stroking the cock in his hand slowly. “I can bend you over right here and ream that sore ass of yours.” He squeezed Dean’s dick and smirked at the sharp intake of breath and the way the organ twitched in his hand. “Or,” he continued, kissing the side of Dean’s neck.

Dean could feel his cock hardening further at the implications of John’s words. “Or...” he croaked before clearing his throat. “Or what?” he managed.

“Hmmm,” John hummed as though taking time to consider his options. “Or, I could stretch you out on the bed and take you in my mouth.” He smiled when Dean couldn’t suppress a quiet moan. “Blow you nice and slow until you’re ready to come and then…” He paused, taking note of the way Dean’s dick was hardening even further in his hand. “I won’t let you.” His smile turned into a grin when Dean whimpered almost inaudibly. “I could bring you to the edge over and over again until you can’t remember your own name.” He stroked Dean’s cock a little harder. “Then I could take you over my knee and warm that ass of yours and you’d take it like a good boy, wouldn’t you, Dean?”

“Yes,” Dean gasped.

“Then, I could have you kneel on the floor in front of the mirror so I can see that red ass while I slide my cock between those pretty lips of yours.”

“Fuck,” Dean breathed, the images assailing his mind. 

“That sounds so good that I’ve decided to take the first option off the table,” John said with a chuckle as he relinquished his hold on Dean’s cock and kissed his cheek. “Make yourself comfortable while I get undressed.”

Dean’s legs were shaking as he moved to the bed, stretching out on his back according to John’s plans. While he knew he’d do whatever John wanted - _needed_ \- to break the curse, he also knew that resolve wasn’t what had him hard and leaking. Before he had a chance to really think about what that might mean, John was joining him on the bed, making himself comfortable between Dean’s outstretched legs. Without further warning, he leaned in and engulfed Dean’s cock in his mouth. 

“Jesus,” Dean breathed, John’s elevated fever adding an unnatural warmth to the contact that seemed to singe every nerve-ending in his body. His hips bucked of their own accord, his cock seeking to go deeper into the delicious heat and John went with the motion, allowing Dean to move the way he wanted. It wasn’t long before the talented mouth had him on the verge of coming and Dean pressed his head back into the pillow, his teeth clenched as his orgasm bore down on him. Just before he reached the edge, John pulled back, one hand grasping the base of Dean’s cock almost painfully.

“Take it easy,” John murmured. “Just breathe.”

“I was so close,” Dean gasped, his hands clutching at the sheets.

“I know,” John soothed, stroking Dean’s hip with one hand while the other maintained its grip on his cock, effectively holding his orgasm at bay. “That’s it,” he encouraged. “Nice deep breaths.” Once he was satisfied that Dean had retreated far enough from the brink to continue, he bent to take just the tip of Dean’s cock in his mouth and then blew lightly on it. “I could do this for hours,” he murmured.

Dean’s breath hitched as he felt his need begin to ramp up again under John’s ministrations. “Like I said,” he managed, “you’re a sadistic sonofabitch.”

John chuckled. “It’ll be worth it, I promise.” With that, he took Dean fully into his mouth again, sucking and swallowing until Dean was, once again, a quivering mass on the verge of release. 

Dean moaned his frustration, but did his best to reign in the need coursing through him when John pulled off for the second time.

“You’re doing good,” John praised as he gentled him back from the edge. “Tell me what you want, Dean.”

“To come,” Dean panted, “I want to come.”

“You will,” John promised, “but not yet.” When he thought Dean was ready, he started all over, taking him to the brink and then backing off, grinning at the muttered curses. He brought Dean to the edge three more times before prodding once again, “Tell me what you want.”

Dean’s head was tossing on the pillow, his every nerve-ending alive and thrumming. “I…I want you to fuck me,” he managed.

John grinned. “Are you sure?” he asked. He sucked Dean back into his mouth, doing his best to drive him crazy before pulling off again. He gave Dean a moment to catch his breath, taking note of the dazed look in the green eyes when they met his. “What else do you want?”

“I want…” Dean moaned as he remembered John’s plans. “I want you to take me over your knee,” he panted. “Warm my ass.”

John leaned in and kissed Dean’s stomach. “Good boy.” He moved to sit on the side of the bed, patting his lap. “Come on, then.”

His arms and legs were shaking, but Dean managed to move himself until he was positioned over John’s lap, his naked ass exposed to whatever John wanted to do.

John stroked the pale flesh for a moment. “You want it to hurt, Dean?” he asked in a sultry tone. “Want me to spank this ass until you can’t tell pain from pleasure?”

The words had Dean moaning low in his throat. “Yes,” he breathed, clenching his eyes shut. “Please.”

John laid down the first hard smack and Dean gasped.

“I love watching your skin change color,” John breathed before laying down four more sharp slaps. “How many do you think you need, Dean?” When Dean didn’t answer, he spanked him three more times. “I’m going to keep going until you give me a number.”

“Ten,” Dean blurted out. 

John rubbed his hand over the reddening flesh before sliding a finger into Dean’s ass.

“Fuck!” Dean cried out, nearly bucking off John’s lap as his prostate was stroked.

“You sure ten’s enough?” John asked as he continued pressing on the sensitive bundle of nerves.

“Whatever you want,” Dean panted. “Just … please.”

John withdrew his finger and rubbed the warm ass again. "I think twenty sounds about right. The ten you asked for, and another ten for me.”

“Fine,” Dean growled, “Just do it.”

John laid down the first five in quick succession, pausing after the fifth to survey his handiwork. “Your ass is warm and pink and you’re still hard,” he said. “You like this, don’t you?”

Dean debated not answering but he doubted he’d get away with that. He _was_ still hard, despite the way his ass was already stinging. “Yes,” he finally managed.

John braced one forearm on Dean’s upper body to hold him in place before he resumed the spanking, delivering five more blows before he paused again. “Does it hurt?” he asked as he stroked the red flesh beneath his hand. “Tell me.”

“Yes,” Dean gasped without hesitation. “It hurts.”

“Do you remember what I’m going to do when we’re done with your spanking?” John asked.

Dean shivered a little as he recalled John’s plan. The thought of his dad’s cock in his mouth repulsed him on some level but he couldn’t deny it also turned him on. “Yes,” he answered, feeling his dick twitch at the admission.

John chuckled, obviously having noticed. “Good,” he murmured. “Then let’s get this ass nice and red so I have a good view.” 

By the time the final ten blows had been delivered, Dean’s ass was throbbing in time with his heartbeat, tears streaming down his face.

“Good boy,” John murmured, rubbing his hand over the reddened flesh. “Always so good for me.” He patted one red cheek gently. “On the floor on your knees.”

Dean moved sluggishly into position and John got to his feet to stand before him. “Perfect,” he murmured, looking at the mirror on the opposite wall where Dean’s red ass was plainly visible. He flicked his eyes to Dean’s tear-streaked face and moaned, grasping the base of his cock. “Fuck. Seeing you on your knees like this is almost enough to make me blow my load before we even get started. You have no idea how much I want to fuck that face.” 

Dean tilted his head to meet John’s gaze, holding it steady as he licked his lips and slowly opened his mouth.

“Jesus,” John breathed, guiding his cock toward Dean’s mouth. The younger man’s lower lip was red and swollen and John knew Dean had likely been biting it during his spanking. The thought had his gaze flicking toward the mirror where the reflection of Dean’s ass practically glowed red. “So fucking hot.” 

Dean’s breath hitched slightly as John guided the head between his lips and pushed halfway in, the weight of John’s cock resting on Dean’s tongue.

“Show me what you’ve got,” John instructed.

While Dean didn’t exactly have a wealth of experience in giving blow-jobs, he’d been on the receiving end enough times to know what felt good and he brought that knowledge to the forefront of his mind as he began sucking, tentatively at first, but with more intent as John’s low moan of approval spurred him on. 

“That’s it,” John breathed, grasping Dean’s head with both hands. He gave Dean a moment to adjust to the feeling of the cock in his mouth before he began fucking in and out of the moist warmth, going deeper with every stroke until he was touching the back of Dean’s throat. “So fucking perfect,” he murmured. He withdrew almost all the way before pushing back in even deeper. 

Dean’s eyes watered as he struggled to breathe around the hard length pushing into his throat and triggering his gag reflex. Pushing down the initial panic, he placed his hands on John’s thighs and tried to pull back a little, only to find that John’s hands held him fast. 

“You’re OK,” John assured him as he pulled out and pushed back in again. “Touch yourself, Dean. I want you to get yourself off before I come down your fucking throat.”

It took Dean a moment to register the words before he reached for his half-hard cock and began stroking it.

“Good,” John murmured as he began to fuck Dean’s mouth with more purpose. “How does that feel? Your own hand on your cock, your ass still stinging from your spanking, knowing that I can see it in the mirror while I fuck that perfect mouth of yours.”

Dean groaned at the words, his cock hardening even further in his hand. He put more effort into the blowjob, alternating between sucking hard and swallowing.

“You’re too fucking good at this,” John muttered, increasing his pace, “but I want to see you come before I do. Come on, Dean. Think about how it felt when I had you in my mouth, when you were practically begging me to let you come.”

The words had the desired effect and Dean could feel himself getting closer to the edge as he worked his cock even faster.

“But I wouldn’t let you,” John reminded him. “Instead, I took you over my knee and spanked that sweet ass of yours, didn’t I? And you loved it. Just like you love being on your knees in front of me, your hot, red ass on display and my cock filling your mouth.”

Dean moaned as his orgasm was ripped from him, come spurting over his hand and onto the carpet. Even as he rode the wave of his own pleasure, he was aware of John’s thrusts becoming more erratic before his mouth was flooded with thick, bitter fluid. 

“Oh yeah,” John murmured as he pumped his release into Dean’s mouth. “That’s it, suck me dry.”

Dean continued to suck as much as he could while trying not to choke as John’s cock continued to erupt in his mouth. He swallowed repeatedly but he could feel some of the milky fluid escaping to dribble down his chin before John was finally spent.

“Good boy,” John praised, pulling Dean’s head off his dick and tilting it up so he could see the flushed features. Using one thumb, he scooped the come from Dean’s chin and guided it into his mouth. 

Dean could feel the heat rising in his cheeks as he sucked the thumb clean before John pulled him to his feet and kissed him, moaning as he tasted himself in Dean’s mouth.

“That was so fucking hot,” John murmured, cupping and squeezing Dean’s sore ass. “I like the taste of me on your tongue.” As though to illustrate that point, he kissed Dean again before patting his ass affectionately. “Go on and get cleaned up and then I’ll change those bandages.”

John cleaned up the mess they’d made on the carpet while Dean was in the bathroom. “Let me see your ass,” he said when Dean emerged from the room to get dressed.

Dean hesitated only briefly before turning to give John a view of his still-throbbing butt.

John moved closer and ran his hands over the reddened flesh. “I like it like this,” he said simply.

Dean snorted. “Really? I hadn’t figured that one out.”

John slapped one ass cheek with a chuckle. “Get dressed, smartass,” he said as he headed into the bathroom. 

Once they were both cleaned up and dressed, John got the medical supplies from his bag and proceeded to replace the damp bandages with dry ones. “How do they feel?”

Dean shrugged. “Better.”

John nodded. “Good. I’ll check them again tomorrow.” He began to pack the supplies into the small first aid kit. “I’m going to go online, check out the area. Might be a good chance for you to grab some sleep.”

“Not tired,” Dean said, flexing his hands to test the new bandages before reaching for the remote and turning on the TV.

John crossed the room to return the first aid kit to his bag. Once he’d taken a seat at the table with the laptop in front of him, he glanced over to see Dean stretching out on the bed. “I thought you weren’t tired.”

Dean paused in his pursuit of something to watch to look at John pointedly. “I’m not. It’s just more comfortable than sitting, right now.”

John smirked as he turned his attention to the laptop. “Yeah, I’ll bet.”

Dean watched half an hour of an all-day Clint Eastwood marathon before getting to his feet and stretching. “I’m hungry.”

“Yeah, me too,” John said from his seat at the table. “We can go out and grab something if you want.”

Dean cocked an eyebrow. “Last time we tried that, you decided it wasn’t food you were hungry for.” John shot him a frown and Dean shook his head slightly. “It’s probably safer if we just stay here and order in.”

“Yeah, OK,” John said.

Dean nodded in satisfaction as he sifted through a stack of take-out menus left by the motel. “Pizza OK with you?”

“Fine.”

Dean picked up his phone and placed the order. “Twenty minutes,” he told his dad once he’d ended the call. He nodded toward the laptop. “Find anything interesting?”

John looked back at the screen and grimaced a little. “I was trying to find out if there were any unusual occurrences in the area, but …”

“But?” Dean prodded distractedly as he checked his wallet for cash.

John looked up again, watching Dean’s movements as he put the wallet in his pocket. “But all I can think about is you.”

Dean’s surprised gaze flew up to meet John’s but as the reason behind the words registered, he nodded in understanding. “The curse is getting stronger as it gets close to the end, right? It makes sense that’s all you can think about.”

John got to his feet and closed the distance between them. “It might make sense to you but it’s driving me crazy,” he growled, stopping in front of Dean and searching his face with an almost desperate gaze. “When you were in the tub, all I could think about was seeing you, but once I did, it wasn’t enough and I needed to fuck you.” He reached up a hand to touch Dean’s bottom lip. “Even after coming like a fucking freight train, I feel like I need to be close to you, to touch you, to …”

The heat radiating off John’s skin was rising at an alarming rate and Dean knew he had to do something. “Hey,” he said, breaking into the uncharacteristic chatter and taking John’s face in both hands to calm him. “It’s OK. Whatever you need, I’m right here.”

John blinked at him once before pulling him into a long, hard kiss and Dean returned it in kind, wrapping his arms around John’s back, relieved when the desperation seemed to wane and John relaxed into it.

“Bed,” John managed between kisses as he thoroughly ravaged Dean’s mouth.

“Pizza’s coming,” Dean replied breathlessly, even though they were already moving toward the closest bed.

John grunted something that might have been acknowledgement before lowering himself onto the mattress and pulling Dean with him. The next thing Dean knew, he was stretched out on the bed with John beside him leaning on one elbow and gazing down into Dean’s face.

Dean licked kiss-swollen lips, uncertain if he liked the scrutiny. “What?” he asked.

John shook his head slightly. “Just enjoying the view,” he said with a small smile as he ran one finger down Dean’s cheek. “You’re beautiful like this. Makes me wonder what I ever did to deserve you.”

“You got yourself cursed,” Dean deadpanned.

John frowned a little. “You’re not a curse. How can you possibly have such a low opinion of yourself?”

It was Dean’s turn to frown. “You remember the curse, right? The witch?”

“Witch?” John repeated, his frown deepening briefly before he shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. All that matters is that we’re together.” He leaned in to kiss Dean deeply.

Dean’s head was swimming, not only from the kiss but from trying to decide if he should be more freaked out by the uncharacteristically sappy sentiment or the fact that John didn’t seem to remember the curse at all. Realizing it was probably a result of the way the effects were intensifying, he thought it was best to just go with it. Shifting his weight, he pushed himself up until John was lying on his back, Dean leaning over him as their earlier positions were reversed. “So, what’s the plan?” he asked, searching John’s features for any sign of regret or uncertainty. “Make out like teenagers until the pizza gets here?”

John grinned. “You have a problem with that?”

As Dean looked into the laughing brown eyes, it hit him that the last time he’d seen them so clear and unclouded by sadness was the one night that was etched into his memory more deeply than any other - the night in Sam’s nursery before their lives had been forever changed. The realization shocked him somewhat and he felt his breath catch in his throat. He’d seen that haunted look for so long that he hadn’t even realized it was there until it was gone. Selfishly, for just a moment, he wished that the curse never had to end, that his dad never had to remember, that he could go back to looking like he didn’t have the weight of the whole world on his shoulders.

Those same eyes began to fill with concern as John’s grin faltered. “What’s wrong?”

Dean shook his head slightly. “Nothing,” he said, offering a small smile of reassurance. “I was just thinking how much I really _don’t_ have a problem with that.” To prove his point, he leaned in to kiss John gently.

John’s grin returned as he rolled them until he was once again the one leaning over the other. “Glad to hear that,” he murmured as he bent to the task of claiming Dean’s lips in a deeper, more intense kiss.

They continued like that, getting lost in each other until a knock at the door startled them apart. “Pizza,” Dean breathed once he could get his mind working.

“Right,” John said, nipping at Dean’s bottom lip. “You better get it.” He gestured toward the hard bulge in his jeans. “I’m not exactly presentable.”

“Like I am,” Dean said, getting to his feet and adjusting his jeans in an attempt to hide his own bulging erection.

“But you’re younger,” John teased, sitting up on the side of the bed. 

Dean gaped at him for a moment, wondering what that had to do with anything, before a second knock had him shaking his head and heading toward the door. He pulled out his wallet with one hand while opening the door with the other to find a cute redhead on the other side.

“Hey,” she said, smiling. “Sorry it’s late, but there’s construction on Steward Street.”

“Late?” Dean asked, glancing at his watch and surprised to see that the promised twenty minutes had stretched into thirty-five. “Oh yeah. No problem.”

She cocked her head to one side and eyed him with a knowing grin as she took in the kiss-swollen lips and flushed cheeks. “You didn’t even realize.”

Dean was about to reply when he felt John’s arms encircle him from behind.

“We got a little distracted,” John drawled with a friendly smile before kissing Dean’s cheek.

The girl’s grin widened at the blatant display of affection. “I can understand that,” she said, her gaze roaming from one to the other. “I’ll take distraction over complaints any day.” She held out the pizza box she was still holding. “That’ll be $10.50.”

John took the box while Dean fished out the money and handed it to her. “Keep the change,” he said with a smile.

“Thanks,” she replied, pocketing the money. “You two have a great day.”

“Oh, we plan on it,” John assured her with a wink. “You do the same.”

Dean closed the door and tossed his wallet on the closest night stand. “You got a kick out of that, didn’t you?”

John shrugged with an unapologetic grin. “I think we made her day,” he said as he put the pizza box on the table.

“And if it had been a homophobic asshole working the delivery?” Dean asked, one eyebrow climbing.

John moved closer to once again take Dean in his arms. “I would have unloaded a round of rock salt on his ass.”

Dean snorted but allowed John to kiss him, apparently picking up where they’d left off when they’d been interrupted. “Pizza’s going to have to wait, isn’t it?” he murmured, tilting his head when John started nuzzling at his neck.

John chuckled and deposited a brief kiss on Dean’s lips. “I plan on taking my time with this body,” he said, running his hands down Dean’s back to squeeze his denim-covered ass. “The least I can do is feed you first.” He released his hold on the younger man and nodded toward the fridge. “Grab a couple of beers. We can watch the movie while we eat.”

Dean grabbed two beers out of the fridge and joined his dad where he’d laid the pizza box and some napkins on the bed.

“Which one is this?” John asked, nodding toward the TV.

Dean looked at the screen and shrugged. “Not sure. One of the spaghetti-westerns in the Dollars trilogy.”

John nodded and made himself comfortable, taking the beer Dean offered and snagging a slice of pizza from the box. They watched the screen as they ate, making the odd comment and snorting at some of the cheesier lines in the film. An hour later, the credits were rolling and the pizza was gone. After tossing the empty box on the floor, John pulled Dean into his arms and kissed him. “I am so fucking horny,” he breathed before kissing Dean again.

“Never knew Eastwood had that effect on you,” Dean teased once the kiss ended.

John snorted. “He doesn’t.” He pulled back to look at Dean’s face with a small frown. “But you do. For whatever reason, I can’t seem to get enough.” He kissed him again. “The more I’m with you, the more I want.”

Deciding against bringing up the curse again, Dean reached up to touch John’s shoulder. “It’s OK,” he said simply. “Whatever you want.”

The frown disappeared as John’s expression softened somewhat. “All I want is you.”

Rather than reply with words, Dean pulled him down into a deep kiss, opting to enjoy the contact, both physical and emotional, while he could. It didn’t take long for things to escalate and a few minutes later they were both trying to catch their breath. “I need you naked,” John muttered as he pulled Dean’s t-shirt over his head. The jeans and underwear were next until Dean lay naked on the bed.

When Dean reached toward John’s shirt to reciprocate, the latter shook his head, taking Dean’s hand and bringing it to his lips. “Uh uh,” he said, kissing the fingers briefly. “Turn over.”

Dean slowly rolled onto his stomach and waited for John to make the next move.

“Your ass is still pink,” John said, running his hands over the warm globes. When he raked his fingernails across the inflamed skin, the gasp Dean let out made him smile. “Still sensitive?”

“Yeah, a little,” Dean said truthfully. 

“Good,” John breathed, spreading Dean’s cheeks apart to gaze at the well-used hole. “That’ll ramp every sensation up a notch.” He kneaded the fleshy globes in his hands for a moment. “I want you to get up on your knees but keep your chest down.”

Dean did as instructed, getting his knees beneath him and keeping his upper body in contact with the bed. The position made him feel exposed, his ass elevated to John’s view.

“Perfect,” John murmured, getting himself into position behind the other man. Leaning in, he kissed one of the pink cheeks gently before rubbing his whisker-stubbled chin over the area.

“Fuck,” Dean gasped, getting a whole new appreciation for how sensitive his sore ass still was.

“In time,” John said on a chuckle as he continued kissing and rubbing against the inflamed skin until Dean was squirming. Once he’d teased both mounds of flesh into a darker shade of pink, he spread the ass cheeks before him and laved his tongue over Dean’s still-puffy hole.

“Jesus!” Dean hissed, clutching the pillow to him and clenching his eyes shut.

Appreciating the reaction, John repeated the motion, slowly licking over Dean’s hole before sucking at the swollen pucker. “You taste so good,” he murmured before diving back in, licking and sucking at the quivering entrance. Pointing his tongue, he pushed it just inside the tight ring of muscle, his hands moving to Dean’s hips to hold him steady as the other man bucked beneath him. Once he’d gone as far as he could with his tongue, he pulled back and eyed the glistening hole. “Up on your hands and knees,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I need to fuck you.”

Dean pushed himself up on shaky arms, his head reeling with the different sensations coursing through him. Before he had a chance to realize what was happening, John was pushing two fingers into his mouth. 

“Get ‘em nice and wet,” John growled. “Suck them like you sucked my cock.”

Dean felt a flush color his cheeks at the reminder and he wasn’t sure if it was shame or arousal but he didn’t have time to dwell on it as his mouth opened to suck John’s fingers in. He got them as wet as he could, closing his eyes and moaning around them as he anticipated them being shoved into his ass, his own saliva prepping the way.

“That’s good,” John encouraged, slowly moving the fingers in and out of Dean’s mouth while his other hand raked his nails over Dean’s inflamed ass. After a moment, he removed his fingers from between Dean’s lips, and immediately pushed them into Dean’s hole, grunting in pleasure as the opening seemed to suck him in. “You want me to pound this ass good, don’t you?”

Dean nodded his head slightly, his jaw clenching at the need building low in his gut. “Yes,” he panted, “Pound my ass.”

Still fingering Dean with one hand, John used the other to open his fly and pull out his cock. Once he was satisfied that Dean was loose enough, he pulled his fingers out and replaced them with his hard length, pushing in all the way on the first stroke and eliciting a surprised yelp from the man beneath him. John grinned as he ground himself against the reddened cheeks, knowing that Dean could feel every fibre of the denim, every tooth of his zipper. “Feels good, don’t it? My cock buried deep, my clothes brushing against that sensitive ass of yours.” He pulled out nearly all the way and pushed in again, making sure his open fly made contact with as much of Dean’s skin as possible. When Dean whimpered at the added stimulation, John felt the heat coiling in his gut. “I’m not going to last long,” he warned, voice strained.

Dean nodded once, his hole clenching around the cock filling him. “Do it.”

John pulled out and slammed back in, his hands grasping Dean’s hips hard enough to bruise. “God, you’re still so tight,” he muttered. From there, he set up a hard, fast pace, enjoying the grunt he pushed out of Dean with every stroke. When he was close, he reached beneath Dean to grab his cock, stroking it in the same hard rhythm.

“Christ!” Dean cried out as he came, his come filling John’s hand and dripping onto the bed.

John followed him seconds later, slamming into Dean and holding himself there while he pumped his load into the warm channel. “Jesus,” he hissed once he’d caught his breath. He pulled out slowly and got off the bed, allowing Dean to collapse onto his stomach. “You OK?”

“Yeah,” Dean muttered wearily.

“Stay where you are and I’ll get you a washcloth,” John offered before disappearing into the bathroom. Once he’d cleaned himself up, he brought a warm washcloth back to the bed and cleaned Dean up as best he could before tossing the soiled cloth aside. He quickly stripped off his clothes and climbed into the bed alongside the other man, pulling the blanket up over them and taking Dean in his arms. “I need you close,” he said as though in way of an explanation, “but you should try to get some sleep. The night’s not over yet.”

Dean nodded slightly and closed his eyes, allowing his sated body and exhausted mind to drift toward sleep. 

John waited until he heard Dean’s breathing even out before he lightly brushed one finger over the freckled cheek. “How am I supposed to give this up?” he whispered brokenly.

End of Part 12


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't apologize enough for how long I've kept everyone waiting for this. Computer issues, work demands and family obligations seemed to be conspiring against me for a while, but I've finally been able to carve out some time to get this work finished. As always, thanks go out to Maya for her feedback on this chapter. And another huge thank you to you, the readers, for your patience and encouraging comments. :)

It was John’s hand gently stroking his shoulder that woke Dean a short time later. Opening his eyes, he saw John watching him intently.

“I need you,” John said, his voice husky. “Now.”

Dean nodded slightly and rolled onto his back. When he moved to continue onto his other side, John stopped him.

“I want you on your back,” John said. “I need to see you.”

There was an urgency to the tone that had Dean frowning slightly in concern. “Yeah, Ok,” he said. 

John moved to lean over him but then stopped, just staring down at Dean’s face with the same intense gaze that Dean had woken up to. After a moment of the scrutiny, Dean’s frown deepened. “What’s wrong?”

John’s gaze hardened for a moment before he shook his head slightly. “Nothing,” he said, though the word wasn’t very convincing. “I just …” He shook his head again. “Nothing.” He leaned in and kissed Dean briefly. “Bend your knees,” he said as he pulled the covers from Dean’s body.

Dean did as instructed, bending his knees and planting his feet on the mattress.

John took Dean’s flaccid dick in hand, but his gaze was still trained on Dean’s face. “Tell me you want this,” he said. “Tell me you want _me_.”

After only a brief hesitation, Dean swallowed once. “I want you,” he said quietly.

John’s expression seemed pained briefly before hardening once again. “You’re mine,” he growled with a squeeze to Dean’s still-limp cock. “By the time I’m through with you, you’re never going to doubt that, do you understand me?”

John’s actions were in such stark contrast to those such a short time ago that all Dean really understood was that the curse was in full effect and they had to play it out. To that end, he nodded once. “Yeah.”

“Stroke yourself while I open you up,” John instructed gruffly. He released Dean’s cock and reached for the lube, watching to make sure Dean did as he was told. Once Dean’s hand was on his own dick, stroking obediently, John opened the tube and coated his fingers with the cool gel. Without hesitation, he reached for Dean’s hole and plunged two of the thick digits in to the hilt.

Dean hissed at the sudden intrusion, his ass still sore from the earlier pounding it had taken.

“Suck it up, boy,” John growled. “I’m going to fuck you hard.” Without further warning, he withdrew his fingers and replaced them with his cock, pushing in as far as he could before letting out what sounded like a relieved sigh. He stayed like that for a moment, his cock buried deep, his gaze fixed on Dean’s face. “You feel that?” he asked, flexing his hips and nudging his cock impossibly deeper.

“Yeah,” Dean gasped, closing his eyes tightly against the fire in his ass. 

“Look at me,” John ordered. He waited until Dean opened watery eyes to meet his. “That’s it,” he said as he pulled out and pushed back in just as harshly. “You keep those eyes open so you know exactly who it is you belong to, you got that?”

Dean clenched his jaw, but didn’t reply, keeping his eyes locked with John’s as the latter pulled out and slammed in again.

“Wherever you go,” John growled, “whoever you’re with, you’ll never find anybody who can fuck you like I can.” Grasping Dean’s legs, he raised them and pushed them back until the younger man was bent nearly in half. “You remember that.” The new angle allowed him to pound into Dean even harder, his length reaching new depths that had Dean gasping with every brutal stroke. 

John continued the punishing pace until he came before stilling all movement, his cock still buried deep in Dean’s body. “Fuck,” he gasped, his expression changing from one of anger to one of horror. Pulling out quickly, he climbed off the bed and backed away from it, watching as Dean’s legs collapsed back onto the mattress. “God, Dean, I’m … are you hurt?”

Dean took a moment to catch his breath, wincing at the burn he could still feel in his ass. “I’m fine,” he said quietly.

“I didn’t mean …” John raked a hand through his hair before frantically looking around for his jeans. He pulled them on quickly and then reached for the shirt he’d discarded earlier.

“Why do I get the feeling I somehow managed to piss you off even though I was asleep?” Dean asked, sitting up and pulling the covers over his naked lap.

John pulled the shirt on with a heavy sigh, leaving it open as he scrubbed a hand over his face. “I don’t …” He seemed to reconsider his answer as his jaw clenched and he met Dean’s gaze. “I know I’m losing you,” he said quietly.

Dean frowned. “What?”

“Don’t try to deny it,” John warned, anger evident in his voice. “Don’t ask me how, but I _know_. I know I have to give you up and …” His expression went from angry to what could only be described as anguished. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to do that.”

Dean allowed his mind a moment to process what he was hearing. “Did I say or do something to make you think that?” he asked cautiously.

“I just told you I don’t know how I know,” John snapped, “but I feel like it’s all going to end at any minute.”

“But you don’t know why,” Dean surmised

“How the Hell should I know?” John replied, his anger growing. “You’re tired of me? You found somebody else? Somebody closer to your own age?”

Dean considered his response briefly. “Part of you knows the curse is about to end,” he began, watching John’s face closely. 

“Curse?” John repeated irritably. “What the Hell are you talking about?”

The response strengthened Dean’s suspicions that John didn’t remember anything about the curse, but the fact that he seemed to know it was coming to an end gave Dean reason to hope that maybe the memory could be triggered. “You were cursed by a witch, remember? You don’t really feel the way you think you do about me or …”

“Damnit, Dean!” John practically shouted. “Don’t try to tell me how I feel!”

Dean was surprised, not only by how quickly John had gone from mildly irritated to fully enraged, but by the way the older man’s face had reddened and the way the veins were bulging in his neck. “Ok,” he said, putting up his hands in a calming gesture. “I’m sorry.”

John seemed to deflate at the apology. “I’m the one who should be sorry,” he said wearily. “It’s just … the thought of losing you makes me crazy.”

Not wanting to elicit another outburst for the sake of John’s blood pressure if nothing else, Dean tried to reassure him. “I’m not going anywhere,” he said truthfully.

John pinned him with a gaze. “Do you mean that?” he asked, his voice low.

Dean swallowed once. They’d come too far to risk saying or doing something that could jeopardize his father’s life when they were so close to the end. “I mean it,” he said.

John studied Dean’s face intently for a moment before his expression slowly morphed into one that was as close to sheepish as John Winchester was ever likely to get. “Which means there wasn’t any reason for me to act like such a …” 

“Neanderthal?” Dean supplied when John paused.

John winced. “I was going to say ‘possessive asshole’, but...” He ran a hand through his hair. “If you were planning to leave me, that probably wasn’t the best way to try to convince you to stay,” he added grimly.

Dean snorted. “No, probably not.”

“I just …” John began, the thought trailing off as he failed to come up with a good enough explanation for his actions.

“Don’t like to lose,” Dean said simply. “Yeah, I know.”

"No, I don't,” John admitted, “but it’s more than that. I feel … connected to you. Like if I lost you, I’d be losing a part of myself.”

Dean got that, he really did. If he were to lose his father or Sammy, he knew there’d be a part of him that would never fully recover. It was encouraging that John could still feel that connection, despite the current circumstances. “For what it’s worth, I feel the same way,” he said sincerely.

John smiled a little as he lowered himself to sit on the side of the bed, his hand on Dean’s covered thigh. “I’m glad to hear it, but now I feel like even more of an asshole for the way I acted. Let me make it up to you.”

“You don’t have to,” Dean said with a slight shake of his head. 

“Yeah, I do,” John insisted quietly. He leaned in and kissed Dean briefly. “I want to.”

Dean didn’t get a chance to reply before John captured his lips again in a longer, deeper kiss. By the time they parted, Dean had all but forgotten the actions John was intent on making up for.

“Make yourself comfortable,” John said with a smirk as he slowly pulled the blanket from Dean’s body. 

Dean swallowed once, stretching out on the bed on his back, his eyes tracking John’s movements as he took off the shirt and jeans he’d so recently pulled on. 

Once naked, John joined Dean on the bed, taking him in his arms and kissing him soundly. “I could kiss you like this all day,” he murmured once the kiss ended.

A breathless “Okay” was out of Dean’s mouth before he even realized he was replying.

John chuckled and dropped a briefer, almost chaste kiss on Dean’s lips. “That’s definitely a thought for another day, but right now I’ve got other plans.” Without elaborating verbally, he began blazing a trail of heated kisses across the line of Dean’s jaw and down to his neck. He paused only long enough to bite the spot where neck met shoulder before continuing down to Dean’s chest. He slowly made his way to one nipple and laved it with his tongue before drawing it between his lips and sucking it to hardness, then moving on to shower the same attention on its counterpart. Once both nubs were standing at attention on Dean’s chest, John proceeded to make his way lower, covering every inch of Dean’s stomach with warm kisses before he finally, _finally_ reached the place where Dean’s cock waited, already half-hard from John’s ministrations.

Dean tried in vain to stifle a low moan as John’s lips closed around the head of his dick and he began putting his considerable talents to work in a long, slow blowjob. Every time Dean thought he couldn’t last another second, John would back off, replacing the intense sucking with gentle laps of his tongue along the length of Dean’s cock. After being denied his orgasm for the third time, Dean let out an embarrassing whimper. “Please,” he whispered, trying to thrust his hips though John held him steady.

“You want to come?” John teased.

“Hell, yeah,” Dean breathed.

John chuckled and bent to his task, sucking Dean’s cock down to the base and then swallowing, the muscles in his throat contracting around the head.

“Christ,” Dean hissed. His hands clutched the bedspread in a death grip as John worked him toward the edge and over, wringing a strangled gasp from him as his cock erupted in one of the most mind-blowing orgasms he’d ever had. As he tried to catch his breath, he could feel John’s hands and mouth gently making their way up his stomach and over his chest until he reached Dean’s lips and claimed them in a deep, lingering kiss.

Once they parted, John huffed an embarrassed laugh. “This was supposed to be all for you, but watching you come like that made me hard enough to pound nails.” He leaned in and kissed Dean briefly. “I really want to be inside you but if you’re too sore…”

The heat coming from John’s skin reminded Dean that they still had to satisfy every urge, even if John didn’t remember that. He was sore, but it wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle. “No, it’s OK,” he said.

“You sure?” John asked with a slight frown of concern.

“I want you to do whatever you feel like doing,” Dean said truthfully. “I’m sure.”

John kissed him again, a longer, deeper kiss that had them both breathless by the time they parted. “I’ll make it good for you, I promise.” 

Already sated, Dean didn’t think he’d be able to get it up again, let alone come, but he didn’t care as long as the curse was satisfied. “I know,” he said with a small smile.

John bent Dean’s legs and grabbed the tube of lube. “You’re a little swollen,” he said when he saw Dean’s puffy hole. 

Before Dean had a chance to respond, John pushed the younger man’s legs back, bent his head and lightly kissed the reddened pucker.

“Fuck,” Dean breathed, surprised by the action. Regardless of the fact that he’d come so hard such a short time ago, he could feel his dick responding as John’s mouth alternated between gentle kisses and soothing swipes of his tongue. When John slowly slid two lubed fingers into his hole a few minutes later, the whimper that escaped Dean’s lips had nothing to do with pain. 

“You ready for me?” John asked after stretching Dean as gently as possible.

“Yeah,” Dean said, nodding once.

John withdrew his fingers just as slowly before lubing his cock and positioning it at Dean’s glistening entrance. Leaning forward, he kissed Dean as he slowly but steadily pushed inside until he was buried deep. When the kiss ended, John watched Dean’s face as he pulled almost all the way out and pushed in again at a maddeningly slow pace. “I love you,” he whispered, nipping at Dean’s lower lip.

“Love you, too,” Dean said, the words not coming as easily as they should. He _did_ love his dad, with everything he had, but he knew that John had meant it in an entirely different way than Dean did, thanks to the effects of the curse, and it felt almost like a betrayal. Like he was repeating words that had been offered under false pretenses, despite the fact that, deep down, he _knew_ his dad loved him, even if it wasn’t the way he thought he did at the moment.

He was pulled from the complicated thoughts when John changed the angle of his slow, deep thrusts, the head of his cock raking Dean’s prostate on every withdrawal.

“Fuck,” Dean breathed, surprised at how his own cock was responding so soon after his earlier orgasm.

“You going to come for me again?” John asked with a smile.

“I don’t …” Dean groaned as John swiveled his hips and nailed his prostate directly. “Christ… I don’t know.”

John kissed him briefly before picking up the pace, still going impossibly deep with every thrust and keeping the angle of his hips such that Dean’s prostate was stimulated on each stroke.

Dean swore he saw stars as yet another orgasm tore through him, his head pressed back into the pillow, his body arching toward the man above him. “Fuck,” he gasped.

John grasped Dean’s hips and thrust deep one final time before he, too, was coming, a breathy grunt escaping his lips as he emptied himself into the pliant body. He took a moment to catch his breath before pulling out and collapsing at Dean’s side on the bed, pulling the younger man into his arms and kissing him soundly.

Once they parted, Dean allowed a weary smile. “Just for the record,” he drawled. “Next time you want to convince somebody of something, that’s the technique to go with.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” John said with a sated chuckle. A moment later, he let out a sharp gasp as he jerked violently and sat up in the bed, struggling for breath.

“What’s wrong?” Dean asked in alarm, quickly sitting up and putting a hand on John’s shoulder. “Christ! You’re burning up!” He’d already been warm, but John’s temperature had risen dramatically in a matter of seconds. 

“I don’t …” John gasped. “Something’s… wrong.” He doubled before he had a chance to say anything else, his face contorted in pain.

“What’s happening?” Dean demanded frantically. “Is it the curse?” He glanced at the clock on the nightstand and his eyes widened slightly as he realized it was midnight. Even as he reached out to offer whatever comfort he could to the man in such obvious pain, his mind was whirling. He’d somehow convinced himself that everything would be all right, that once the clock struck twelve, John would be safe and everything could go back to normal. He should have known better and he silently cursed his own naiveté. Things were rarely that easy, not in the lives they led. For all he knew, everything they’d done to that point had been meaningless, a cruel joke to torment them before the witch claimed the one thing she truly wanted in the ultimate revenge. 

The alternative was something he didn’t want to think about but hadn’t been able to keep from hovering at the back of his mind. Maybe his initial fears weren’t as unfounded as his dad had tried to convince him they were. In the end, maybe he just hadn’t done enough, hadn’t given enough, hadn’t _been_ enough. 

He was pulled from his thoughts as John’s convulsive movements suddenly ceased. “Dad?” he croaked with equal parts fear and hope.

The only response he got was his father’s limp body collapsing back onto the bed. 

“Dad!” Dean called, scrambling to his knees, his fingers automatically going to John’s throat. “Thank God,” he muttered when he felt a strong, steady pulse there. “Dad, come on,” he urged as he patted John’s cheeks. “Wake up.” His efforts were in vain but a realization finally managed to make its way through the fear and dread. While maybe slightly warmer than normal standards, John’s skin no longer felt hot to the touch. Dean hoped that was a good sign, but the lack of response he was getting from his dad still had him worried. When his phone began to ring a few minutes later, he scrambled to grab it, somehow knowing who it would be. “Bobby?” he said into the small device.

“Dean,” Bobby said, relief evident in his voice. “How’s John?”

“I don’t know,” Dean said truthfully. “The fever got really high and then he just passed out.”

“Is he still hot?” Bobby asked.

“No,” Dean said, reaching to touch John’s cheek and finding the temperature of the skin to be even closer to normal than it had been a moment earlier. “It’s gone down, but I can’t wake him up. Is this supposed to happen?”

“From all I could find, he should be back to normal once the curse is broken,” Bobby replied.

“Then why isn’t he waking up?” Dean asked, staring at his father’s lax features as though he could will him to respond.

Bobby considered that for a moment. “The curse probably took a physical toll. All that … exertion and probably very little sleep if I know your father.”

Dean couldn’t argue that. He’d hardly seen John sleep at all since the curse started. “Yeah.”

“If he’s breathing normally, there might not be anything to do but let him sleep it off. You still in Columbus?”

“Uh, no, just outside of Gillette, Wyoming,” Dean informed him, surprised that Bobby knew where they’d been.

“Even better. I can be there in a couple of hours.”

“You figure out how to put wings on those cars of yours?” Dean asked, one eyebrow climbing. They were still a good eight hours from Bobby’s.

Bobby was silent a moment. “Let’s just say I’m in the neighbourhood.” he said. 

“Working a job?” Dean asked.

“Not exactly,” Bobby replied reluctantly. With a sigh, he added, “Your dad asked me to meet up with you. You were in Columbus at the time but I haven’t heard from him since.”

“Yeah, he’s been a little … out of it the last day or so,” Dean said distractedly. “He didn’t tell me he’d been talking to you. I thought we were supposed to head to your place.”

“That was the original plan,” Bobby agreed, “but …”

“But what?” Dean pressed.

Bobby sighed again. “I don’t know, maybe he thought you’d need a hand taking care of things if it all went south.”

An image of Bobby helping him to salt and burn his father’s body rose unbidden to the surface of Dean’s mind and he swallowed hard. “Yeah, well, it didn’t.” He glanced at his dad with a concerned frown. “Not yet, anyway.”

“The curse deadline has passed and he’s alive,” Bobby pointed out gently. “That’s a good sign.”

“Yeah,” Dean said.

“As it turns out, this makes more sense than you guys heading to my place,” Bobby added. “Seeing as how we don’t know how long he’ll be out. No point in the two of us waitin’ and worryin’ separately when we can do it together.”

“Yeah, OK,” Dean acquiesced. “See you when you get here.”

He gave Bobby the address and room number before ending the call and turning his attention back to his father’s motionless figure. It really did look like he was sleeping and Dean hoped Bobby was right. He pulled the blankets up to cover his dad’s form, acutely aware that he, himself, was still naked. He paused to watch John breathing for a moment before heading into the bathroom for a quick shower.

Once he was dressed, Dean sat beside the bed, just watching his dad. The man hadn’t moved a muscle in the last hour and Dean was worried that maybe there was more to it than just physical exhaustion. What if the curse was never meant to be broken? What if, in the event it didn’t kill John before the full moon, it was intended to leave him in a coma-like state for the rest of his life? 

A low moan from the bed had him moving from the chair to the edge of the mattress. “Dad?”

John’s face crumpled into a frown for a moment before he shot up in bed, his eyes wide. “Dean!”

“Hey, it’s Ok, I’m right here,” Dean assured him with a hand on his arm.

John pulled him into a bone-crushing hug before pulling back to study Dean’s features with a worried frown. “Are you all right? Are you hurt?”

Dean shook his head dismissively. “Really, I’m fine. The important thing is, are _you_ okay? You were in a lot of pain.”

John’s frown deepened. “Me?” As the memories began to fall into place in his mind, his jaw clenched. “That fucking witch.”

“Yeah,” Dean agreed, relieved that his father remembered at least that much. “You remember the curse?”

John pulled away, swinging his legs over the opposite side of the bed. “Yeah,” he said glumly as he reached for his jeans. He kept his back to Dean as he stood and pulled them on before grabbing a nearby t-shirt and pulling it over his head. Once dressed, he turned to face Dean, his expression full of regret. “Dean, I …”

“You don’t have to say anything,” Dean said when John’s voice trailed off. “It’s over. Done. We beat that bitch at her own game and the curse is broken.” He frowned a little at John’s grimace. “Right?”

“Yeah, it’s broken,” John said dully. 

Dean didn’t like the way John seemed unwilling to make eye contact. “That’s good,” he said quietly. Trying for a smile that he wasn’t really feeling, he added, “What say we put a couple’a W’s on the board and call it a day.”

John did meet his gaze, then, albeit briefly. “Yeah, OK,” he said with the hint of a nod. After a few seconds of uncomfortable silence he cleared his throat. “I could use a shower.” 

Dean didn’t miss the grimace that punctuated that statement. “Ok,” he said, watching as John gathered some clean clothes and his toiletry bag before disappearing into the bathroom.

“So much for back to normal,” Dean muttered with a sigh once the door had closed.

End of Part 13


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one is winding down :( Thanks to Maya for the feedback!

John was in the shower for nearly half an hour and when he finally exited the bathroom, his skin was red as though he’d been scrubbing it under water much hotter than he generally liked.

“How do you feel?” Dean asked, pushing those observations aside.

“Better,” John said, fidgeting with the zipper on his shaving bag before putting it into his duffel.

“Good,” Dean replied with a slight nod. “Bobby called.” 

John frowned a little as he looked at Dean. “What did he say?”

“He asked how you were, said it was probably exhaustion and that he’d be here in a couple of hours,” Dean replied.

“Oh OK,” John said with a nod. 

“He also said you asked him to come,” Dean added. “I thought the plan was to head to his place.”

John was quiet for a moment. “Plans can change, especially when they’re made under stressful conditions.”

“Okaaay,” Dean said, both eyebrows climbing slightly. 

“He’s probably been driving for hours,” John said, picking up his keys. “The least we could do is have a cold beer to offer him when he gets here.”

Dean frowned. “It’s nearly 2 am.” 

“So it might take me a while to find a place that’s open,” John countered. “You should stay in case he gets here before I get back.”

Dean looked at him for a moment before nodding once, his jaw clenching. “Right.”

“I shouldn’t be too long,” John said, trying to force a smile of reassurance before heading out the door.

Dean stared at the closed door for a long moment before sighing and turning on the TV. As he flipped through channels with the remote, nothing on the screen really registered since he was so lost in thought. He hadn’t actually been _expecting_ a particular scenario once the curse ended, probably because he was too afraid to hope for a favorable outcome, but certain possibilities had crossed his mind nonetheless. A slap on the back and a ‘good job, Son’ was one of them, but that was probably wishful thinking on his part. He’d also entertained the possibility that John might not remember any of it once it was over, but that obviously wasn’t the case. Then there was the good chance that he’d disapprove of Dean’s choice and tear him a new one for offering himself so freely to a supernaturally influenced agenda but in that case he’d be angry and he didn’t seem to be, he just seemed … distant.

Which brought Dean’s mind around to the one scenario he’d feared most. That his dad would want nothing more to do with him after everything he’d done. Everything he’d done _willingly_ without being cursed or coerced. Unlike his father, Dean had made a conscious choice, had even admitted to enjoying it more than he probably should have. John might have said that he was proud of him for it and that he wouldn’t bail the first chance he got, but he’d been under the influence of the curse at the time.

_Plans can change, especially when they’re made under stressful conditions_

And that pretty much summed things up, didn’t it? Nothing John had said during the course of the curse had been real. It hadn’t been _him_ talking, hadn’t been the father Dean had looked up to his whole life, had tried so hard to earn praise from. But that man was back now and wanted nothing to do with a son who would rather have a cock up his ass than risk being alone.

He took a moment to fight off the dread his thoughts had inadvertently caused. His father was _alive_ and that was the outcome that mattered most to Dean. And if they had to go their separate ways, he’d always know that his dad was out there somewhere, saving people, hunting things, and that Dean had played a part in keeping him alive to do so. Despite everything he stood to lose, Dean didn’t regret it, not for a second.

By the time John returned to the room with a six-pack and a bag of take-out, Dean’s defensive walls were firmly in place. 

“Bobby’s not here?” John asked with a slight frown.

“Not yet,” Dean replied, keeping his eyes on the TV screen though he had no idea what he was watching.

John looked at his son for a moment. “You OK?” he asked gruffly.

“Fine.” 

The terse tone had John clenching his jaw. “I picked up some food,” he said, after a moment. “I thought you might be hungry.”

“I’m not,” Dean informed him flatly, still keeping his gaze fixed on the TV. 

John sighed. “Look, I know you said we don’t need to talk, but …”

A knock on the door interrupted him and Dean felt a strong sense of relief as he got up to answer it. After looking through the peephole, he opened the door to the man they’d been expecting. “Hey, Bobby,” he said with a small smile.

“Good to see you, boy,” Bobby said as he let himself into the room.

The genuine affection and caring he saw in Bobby’s eyes lightened Dean’s heart a little and his smile widened. “Yeah, you, too.”

“John,” Bobby said, nodding to the other man in the room. “You’re awake, I see. How do you feel?”

“I’m fine,” John assured him. “Thanks for coming and … everything.”

“Glad I could help,” Bobby said, obviously uncomfortable with the sentiment considering part of his ‘help’ had been spelling out the only way to break the curse. Turning to Dean once again, he couldn’t hide the concern in his eyes. “What about you? You OK?”

Dean nodded. “Yeah, I’m good.” He saw the look of horror that suddenly crossed Bobby’s face and he frowned. “What?”

“Good Lord, Son, what did you do?” Bobby asked, anguish evident in his voice.

Years of experience ensured that Dean’s mental defenses were never far from the surface, even though he was slightly hurt to feel that he needed them at the moment. Nonetheless, his chin tilted defiantly. Bobby already _knew_ what he’d done but maybe the reality hadn’t really hit him before. Dean was about to fire off a caustic reply when he realized that Bobby’s gaze was trained on his wrists. His still _bandaged_ wrists. “You mean these?” he asked, holding his arms out slightly. “Wait… you think I tried to _off_ myself? It wasn’t me!”

Bobby’s expression turned thunderous as he looked at John.

“Well it sure as Hell wasn’t me!” John exclaimed with an indignant frown. “Jesus, Bobby.”

“We were hunting a ghoul,” Dean hurried to explain. “But there were two of them and they got the jump on us. Dad ganked ‘em both but not before they started feeding on me like I was an all-you-can-eat buffet at Biggerson’s.” He shuddered slightly at the memory.

“Ghouls will sometimes get a taste for living flesh,” Bobby mused as though trying to decide if he believed the story. “But they don’t usually hunt in pairs.”

“Apparently, sometimes they do,” John said grimly. “It was my fault. I never should have suggested the hunt.”

“Ya think?” Bobby exclaimed. “You were cursed for Christ’s sake!”

Mention of the curse rendered them all silent for a moment.

“How bad are they?” Bobby asked, nodding toward Dean’s wrists.

Dean shrugged. “They’re OK. Dad stitched them up and they didn’t get infected or anything.”

“Well that’s good, anyway,” Bobby said with relief. Turning to John, he said, “Now that I know you’re both still standing, I’ll take one of those beers.”

While John opened three bottles, he nodded toward the take-out bag. “There’s Chinese food if you’re hungry.”

“I ain’t about to turn that down,” Bobby said, taking a seat at the table. 

Dean unpacked the bag, opening all three containers before he put one at John’s place, knowing it was his favorite of the three dishes. Holding up the other two, he asked Bobby, “Chicken or pork?”

“Pork,” Bobby said, liking them both and knowing that Dean preferred the chicken.

Though he hadn’t been lying earlier when he said he wasn’t hungry, Dean took a seat at the table with the others and began poking at the chicken with his chopsticks.

“So, tell me about these ghouls,” Bobby said as they began eating.

John shrugged. “Three people had disappeared in the vicinity of the local cemetery. We found their hideout and what we thought was one of the victims still alive.”

“Only it was one of the ghouls impersonating the victim,” Dean elaborated.

“They can do that once they feed off somebody,” Bobby said grimly.

“It was while we were trying to help that one that the other came at us from behind,” John said, shaking his head. “When I came to, my hands were tied, and one of them had already bitten Dean.”

“Let me tell you, there’s nothing creepier than being tied to a cot with your own face looking down at you,” Dean added with a shudder.

John’s jaw clenched at the reminder of some of the things ghoul-Dean had said. “Long story short, I got free, hacked off both of their heads, called the sheriff and we got the Hell out of there.”

“Were all three victims already dead?” Bobby asked.

“One survived,” John answered. “That’s the only thing that kept the job from being a total clusterfuck.”

“Yeah, well, you’re lucky you got off as easy as you did,” Bobby admonished. “You should know better than to be hunting when you’ve been infected with something supernatural.”

“That didn’t have anything to do with it,” Dean said more shortly than he’d intended. “We just weren’t expecting two of them.”

“Can’t say I would have been expecting that, either,” Bobby admitted. 

“Did you really think we’d just ignore a suspected ghoul?” John challenged the older man.

“Or the poltergeist in Cramden?” Dean added, “Or the siren in Fullerton?”

“You two idjits took on a siren with one of you already under the influence of a curse?” Bobby exclaimed.

“Hey! Give me a little credit, here,” Dean said with a frown. “Even if Dad hadn’t been up to it, I’m not exactly a rookie hunter, you know.”

“Damn straight,” John agreed with a proud smirk. “Hell, all I did was watch the door while Dean took her out.”

“Well,” Bobby relented, looking back and forth between them. “I guess since neither of you managed to get yourselves killed, it counts as a win. Is that it? Or did you decide to tackle a nest of vampires while you were supposed to be doing what you could to break that damned curse?” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he realized how thoughtless they were, even before he saw the flush of color in Dean’s face and the clenching of John’s jaw. “Balls,” he muttered. “I didn’t mean to …”

“Don’t sweat it,” Dean said, feeling bad for the man who’d been like a second father to him for most of his life. “I’m just sorry you had to drive up here for nothing.” He caught the look that Bobby shot John’s way and frowned, trying to figure out what was niggling at the back of his mind. “Speaking of driving,” he said once he realized what it was, “why didn’t I hear your car pull up?”

Bobby hesitated only briefly. “I figured I wasn’t going anywhere until I got a couple’a hours of shut-eye so I got a room. I’m parked a few doors down.”

“Really,” Dean said skeptically, one eyebrow rising toward his hairline.

John cleared his throat, a gesture that seemed uncharacteristically ill at ease. “Actually, Dean, that’s part of the reason I asked him to come.”

Dean frowned. “I don’t get it.”

John and Bobby shared another look before John took a long pull from his bottle and got to his feet. “Might as well show you now,” he said, gesturing toward the door.

“Or it could wait until morning,” Bobby said pointedly.

“Yeah, if I want to spend the whole night wondering what’s going on,” Dean said with a frown. “Which I don’t.”

Bobby studied him for a moment. “Fine,” he finally said.

Once out in the parking lot, John led the way to where a large black truck stood parked in front of what Dean guessed was Bobby’s room. “Nice wheels,” Dean said appreciatively. He turned to his dad with a confused frown. “But I don’t know why you’d ask him up here just to show me his truck when I could have seen it at his place.”

“Not his,” John said, looking decidedly uncomfortable. “Yours.”

Dean looked at the truck, then to Bobby, then back to John. “What?”

John cleared his throat. “It’s a 1981 GMC Sierra Grande 4x4,” he said, nodding toward the truck. “350 horse power, short box, stainless exhaust. Even a weapon compartment under a false floor in the bed, fully automatic, just flick a switch.”

The fact that John was rambling registered more than the actual words in Dean’s mind. “You bought me a truck?”

“I thought it was time you had your own wheels,” John said with a sigh. He frowned a little as he watched Dean’s expression harden. “You don’t like it.”

“No, it’s great. Thanks.” Dean said flatly. Turning to Bobby, he added, “So you drove up here to bring me this?”

Bobby shot John a look before he faced Dean with an expression that seemed more apologetic than anything else. “That was your dad’s reason, yeah,” he admitted. “But I went along because I wanted to be here if you needed me.”

Dean knew he was telling the truth and he offered what he hoped was a convincing smile. “I appreciate that.”

“It runs like a dream, though,” Bobby said, relief evident in his voice.

“Guess I’ll find out soon enough,” Dean said, looking back at the truck. “But not ‘til morning. I’m beat.”

Bobby looked back and forth between the Winchester men. “You and me both. Think I’ll turn in.”

“Night,” Dean said, watching Bobby until he disappeared into his room. 

Only once they were alone did Dean look at his father again. He was expecting John to get in the Impala and take off so he was surprised when his dad merely returned his gaze for a moment before heading back toward the room they’d been sharing.

Dean took one more look at the truck and then over at where the Impala was parked before he sighed and followed his dad inside.

John was already in the bathroom with the door closed and Dean shook his head as he pulled off his shirt and sat down on the end of one bed to unlace his boots. By the time John exited the bathroom, Dean was under the covers feigning sleep. He knew John had suggested they talk earlier, but Dean didn’t feel up to having the whole thing spelled out for him at the moment.

Actually _hearing_ that he’d lost his dad’s love and respect could wait until morning.

He heard John moving around the room for a while before finally getting into the other bed. While Dean dozed off and on, he didn’t get any real sleep and he could tell by the sound of his dad’s tossing and turning that he didn’t either. After a few hours, Dean could see a sliver of light coming in from between the closed curtains and he decided to give up the pretense of even trying to sleep. Getting out of bed, he glanced over to see John wide awake and watching him. “Hey,” he said quietly.

“Hey,” John returned. “Did you sleep at all?”

“Not really,” Dean answered, though he suspected John already knew that. “You?”

“Not really.”

Dean nodded once and hesitated briefly before heading into the bathroom and closing the door.

After showering and brushing his teeth, Dean left the bathroom just in time to hear a soft knock on the door. John was already dressed and Dean wondered if he’d even bothered undressing the night before. Before he answered it, John glanced in Dean’s direction to make sure he was decent, not wanting to give Bobby an unexpected eyeful.

“Hey, Bobby,” John said as he opened the door. 

“Mornin’,” Bobby responded. “I brought coffee.”

Dean finished dressing and inhaled deeply, savoring the smell of freshly brewed coffee. “Thanks, Bobby,” he said with a grin as he headed for the table.

“I just had an interesting call,” Bobby said, sitting down at the table with his coffee.

“Interesting how?” Dean asked.

Bobby looked at John. “Remember that rugaru you killed back in ’95 or so?”

John turned to him with a frown. “Yeah, what about it?”

Bobby sighed. “As you know, the gene runs in families.”

“But he didn’t have any kids,” John pointed out.

“No, but he had four brothers and all of them had kids.”

“Doesn’t mean they have the gene, though,” John said. “I thought it was passed directly from parent to child. We can’t go around wiping out entire families on the off-chance one of them might become a monster.”

“Did I suggest that?” Bobby asked irritably. “Let me finish, ya idjit.”

John gave him a withering look. “Go on.”

“Like you said, from what we know, it’s passed directly from parent to child.”

“So if this guy didn’t have kids, what’s the problem?” Dean asked.

“The problem is, what the guy _did_ have,” Bobby explained, pausing for dramatic affect. “An affair with his brother’s wife.”

“So one of his brother’s kids is actually his?” John asked.

“That’s what I’m guessing,” Bobby said with a nod. “The sheriff who was in charge the first time around has retired, but he called me when things started happening that pointed to it starting up all over again.”

“What kind of things?” Dean asked.

“Started out small, someone shoplifting meat from the local grocery store,” Bobby explained. “Then a butcher shop was robbed in the middle of the night. Thief made off with over a hundred pounds of raw meat.”

“Maybe the guy just had a hankering for a good old fashioned barbecue,” Dean quipped.

Bobby shot him a look. “That wouldn’t explain the superhuman strength of the man who hijacked a meat truck and ripped the door off with his bare hands.”

“No, it wouldn’t,” Dean agreed.

“Sounds like a rugaru, all right, which means it’s only a matter of time before it loses control and goes after what it really wants,” John said.

“Human flesh,” Dean elaborated.

“I’d rather it not get that far,” Bobby said. 

“Count me in,” Dean said with a shrug.

“I’ll go,” John said, before turning to face Dean. “I should send you home with Bobby. The last thing I need is for you to become another monster’s snack after what happened with the ghouls.”

“I can take care of myself,” Dean said irritably. “And I’ve got my own wheels, now, right? I don’t need you _sending_ me anywhere.” 

“Before this escalates into a knock-down, drag-out, you should know I already sent Rudy and Fletcher,” Bobby told them, scowling.

Dean pulled a face. “What? Why?”

“Mostly because they were closer,” Bobby said before pausing briefly, “but also because I’ve got something at my place I think you both need to see.”

“What is it?” John asked, turning to frown in Bobby’s direction.

“I could be wrong, but it’s possibly a lead on the thing you’ve been hunting all these years,” Bobby replied.

It was Dean’s turn to frown. “The thing that killed Mom?”

“Like I said, I could be wrong,” Bobby warned.

“Can’t you just tell us?” John asked.

“If I could do that, I wouldn’t have asked you to come look at it, now, would I?” Bobby snarked.

“All right,” John said. “Don’t get your boxers in a bunch. We’ll meet up at your place.”

Dean turned to Bobby. “You can ride with me if you want.”

“Sure,” Bobby said.

Dean grabbed his duffel with an annoyed look at his father. “Fine. I’ll be in the truck.”

Once alone in the room with John, Bobby turned to him with an exasperated expression. “What the Hell’s the matter with you? What happened with the ghouls wasn’t his fault.”

“I know that,” John snapped. “I just …” He took a deep breath. “Christ, Bobby, you don’t know what it was like, seeing them bite into him like that. I needed them distracted so I could make my move and I had to sit there and _watch_.”

Bobby’s angry expression morphed into one of sympathy and understanding. “I guess that kinda fear and worry can make you say stupid things,” he allowed. “But maybe I’m not the one you should be explaining to.”

“He doesn’t want to talk to me,” John said with a wry smile. “I tried, but …” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Not that I can blame him. I really fucked up this time.”

“If there’s one thing in this world I’m sure of, it’s that that boy will forgive you almost anything,” Bobby said with conviction. “But ya gotta talk to him, whether you think he wants to hear it or not.”

“You think it’s that easy?” John said irritably. “It’s bad enough just _feeling_ it without trying to put it into words. Hell, it took me a while to work up the nerve to even try talking to him.”

“So it ain’t easy, boo-hoo,” Bobby grated. “You think it’s any easier on him?”

“Damnit, I know it’s not,” John snapped. “Which is why I don’t want to make it even worse.”

“Worse? He’s separated from his brother for the first time since Sam was born, he’s probably feeling insecure about his place with you after everything that’s happened the past week, you threatened to send him home like a little kid and on top of all that, you replaced the only _real_ home he’s ever known with a truck just so _you_ could ease your guilty conscience!” Bobby hissed, trying to keep his voice down though his face was red with anger. “How the Hell much worse do you think it can get?”

John frowned. “You know that’s not …”

“Yeah, you idjit! _I_ know and _you_ know but the one who _needs_ to know is concocting God knows what scenarios in that head of his!” Bobby pointed out in frustration.

“Okay, I get it,” John said, trying to calm the other man down. “I’ll talk to him.”

“When?” Bobby demanded.

“I’ll know when the time is right,” John said evasively as he picked up his duffel and headed for the door. 

Bobby watched the other man leave the room. “Winchesters,” he muttered before following him out.

***

The silence in the truck was tense and Bobby couldn’t take it for long. “You’ve got a CD player,” he pointed out, trying to ease the tension.

Dean glanced down at the equipment in question before fixing his gaze on the road once more. “All my music’s on cassette.”

“I can help you convert it,” Bobby offered. After another moment, he sighed. “Look, son, I’m not the one who should be telling you this, but what your daddy said back there, he didn’t mean it like it sounded.”

Dean snorted. “Like he doesn’t trust me on a simple hunt, you mean? Yeah, OK.”

“Did you know he saw those ghouls bite you?” Bobby asked.

Dean glanced out his side window briefly, his anger waning just a little. “Yeah,” he said.

“Put yourself in his shoes. After seeing that happen to your dad or Sam, would you be thrilled about the idea of them taking on another monster with a taste for human flesh while the whole thing was still so fresh in your mind?”

Dean was silent for a moment, knowing Bobby had a point. “No,” he finally conceded.

“Lord knows your father’s not the greatest when it comes to saying what he’s feeling, but sometimes you just gotta look for the real meaning behind the words.”

Dean snorted. “Yeah, well, he makes himself pretty clear without words.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Bobby asked with a frown.

“Dad ever tell you about that Shtriga?” Dean asked after a moment. “The one that nearly killed Sammy on my watch?”

Bobby’s jaw clenched. He’d never approved of how often Dean had been made to feel solely responsible for Sam’s safety at such a young age, but no matter how many times he’d expressed his concerns, the elder Winchester had pointed out that he was the parent and that he was doing what he thought was best for his boys. “Yeah, he told me,” he said dully.

Dean’s eyes clouded a little as he thought back. “He was so disappointed in me that he couldn’t even look at me, couldn’t wait to drop us off at Pastor Jim’s.” He paused briefly. “And that’s exactly how he’s acting now.”

“You so all-fired sure it was disappointment?” Bobby challenged.

Dean pulled a face. “I disobeyed a direct order. What else would it be?”

“Worry, maybe? Fear? Guilt?”

Dean snorted. “Dad wasn’t the one with reason to feel guilty about that. He wasn’t even there until the last minute when he showed up and blew it away.”

“You ever think maybe _that’s_ what he felt guilty for?” Bobby asked, already knowing the answer.

Dean glanced at him with a frown before turning his attention back to the road. “You weren’t there, Bobby,” he said tightly.

Bobby watched him for a minute before shaking his head with a sigh. “No, I wasn’t.”

***

Once at Bobby’s, the three men went inside.

“So, what is it you wanted us to see?” John asked without preamble.

“It’s downstairs,” Bobby said. “It’s old so I wanted to keep it in a place where I could control the humidity.”

“Unlike all this _new_ stuff, you mean,” Dean said, looking pointedly around Bobby’s dated home.

“Very funny,” Bobby groused. “You want to see it or not?”

“Yeah,” John said with a sigh.

Bobby led them downstairs and through a heavy door into a room John had never seen before. 

“Actually, there’s something else that might help,” Bobby said. “Hold on a second.”

John and Dean were looking around, trying to figure out what it was Bobby wanted to show them when they heard a loud clanging sound and turned to find the door closed.

“What the Hell, Bobby!” John exclaimed, storming toward the door.

“Sorry, boys,” Bobby apologized through a small opening in the door, “but you two idjits are going to talk to one another if I have to leave you in there until the _next_ full moon, you got that?”

“You had this planned all along?” John demanded.

“No, I came up with the idea when I realized you were both too bullheaded to figure it out for yourselves.”

“So you lied to us,” John accused, his tone dangerously low. “Knowing how important it is that we find what killed Mary.”

“Trust me,” Bobby said quietly. “This is just as important, maybe even more so.”

“Okay, we get it,” Dean said. “You can open the door now.”

“Ain’t gonna happen, Son,” Bobby said sympathetically. “I know you two’d rather eat a ground glass sandwich than talk about what’s going on in those stubborn Winchester heads, but I ain’t about to stand by and watch either one of you lose what little family you got left if I can help it.”

“Bobby…,” Dean tried again, a pleading tone in his voice.

“You’ve got everything you need for a prolonged stay if that’s what it takes,” Bobby said, cutting him off before he gave in and changed his mind. “Water, rations, bathroom facilities. The game system’s outdated but the TV still works, so make yourselves at home and I’ll be back to check on you in the morning.” With that, he closed the small opening and slid a bolt into place to secure it.

“Fuck,” John muttered under his breath as he looked around the room. “What the Hell is this, anyway?”

“Bobby’s version of a panic room,” Dean said. “Sammy and I used to play video games down here. It was our favorite spot in the house.” He glanced at the closed door. “Of course, the door was open then.”

“The game room,” John said. “Sammy used to talk about it but I couldn’t picture Bobby actually having one. And what the Hell does he need a panic room for, anyway? The guy’s got more weapons than anybody I know. Why didn’t I know about this?”

Dean snorted. “Probably because you were only ever here long enough to drop us off or pick us up. As for why he’s got it, who knows? Maybe he wants to be prepared for the zombie apocalypse or a demon uprising or Beliebers taking over the world. It’s Bobby.”

“So how do we get out?” John asked, looking around.

Dean shook his head slightly. “Like I said, it’s Bobby. We’re not getting out until he’s good and ready.”

John spotted the fridge at the back of the room and made a beeline toward it. “If there’s no beer, I’m going to kick his ass.”

End of Part 14


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is the end of the line, folks :( A huge thank you to Mayalaen for both her suggestion regarding the beginning of this chapter and for all her patience and feedback throughout the writing and re-writing of this fic. Please see additional comments at the end of this chapter.

John grabbed two beers out of the fridge, handing one to Dean before twisting the cap off the other and taking a long pull from the bottle. “There’s got to be a way out of here,” he said, looking around.

“I doubt it,” Dean said, walking over to a shelf that held an assortment of old games, books and movies.

“A panic room is to keep people out, not in,” John pointed out, putting down his beer and walking over to the door. First he tried the handle before checking the edges for hidden buttons or latches.

Dean turned to watch him for a moment before turning back to the shelf with a roll of his eyes. “You think he’d bother locking us in here if he thought we’d get out that easy?”

“There’s got to be a way,” John growled. “We just need to find it.”

“Knock yourself out,” Dean said with a smirk. He found a stack of old comic books and took it, along with his beer, over to the only sofa in the room where he made himself comfortable.

“You’d really rather stay locked in here reading comic books?” John asked, frowning.

“Wouldn’t be my first choice, no, but that doesn’t matter,” Dean said, not taking his eyes off the book in his hand. “If Bobby doesn’t want us to leave, we’re not going anywhere.”

“Even Bobby can overlook something,” John grated.

Dean looked around the room thoughtfully before taking a swig of his beer and turning his attention back to the comic book. “Between the devil’s traps, sigils and wards of God knows what origin, I think he’s pretty much got his bases covered.”

“None of which have any effect on humans,” John pointed out irritably.

“No,” Dean said, nonchalantly turning a page. “But unless you think you can kick down the reinforced iron door, I’d say you’re shit out of luck.”

John glared at him for a moment before shaking his head and continuing to look for a way out. After half an hour, he gave up. “Damnit!” he exclaimed in exasperation. “I’m going to kick his ass!”

“Just leave it alone,” Dean muttered under his breath.

“You got something to say, you’d better speak up,” John growled.

Dean looked up at him for the first time since he’d settled in on the sofa. “Fine,” he said, getting to his feet. “You can’t seriously want to kick his ass for trying to help. If he hadn’t tricked us into coming here, you’d be halfway across the state by now, but he did. He outsmarted the legendary John Winchester, so why can’t you just suck it up and ride it out until morning? We’ll tell him we cared and shared and then you can be on your merry way.”

John looked at him for a moment, his expression softening a little. “Is that what you want?” he asked.

“How the Hell does it matter what _I_ want?” Dean demanded, unable to hide the anger and frustration he was feeling. “I’m not the one who bought a fucking truck in a desperate attempt to put as many miles between us as possible!”

John’s jaw clenched. “That is _not_ why I gave you the truck.”

“Oh really?” Dean challenged angrily, his voice rising. “So, what was it, then? Payment? ‘Hey, thanks for the sex, this should cover it, have a nice life’?”

“No!” John exclaimed, horrified at the suggestion. “I …”

“I guess I should be glad you didn’t leave cash on the nightstand!” 

“Damnit, Dean, stop it!” John thundered, not wanting to hear any more.

Dean’s chin tilted slightly in defiance, his chest heaving with barely controlled pain and anger.

“Jesus,” John growled, running a hand through his hair. “I knew I fucked up but I didn’t realize how bad.” The expression he leveled at Dean was beseeching. “Will you let me explain? Please?”

That was a word he rarely heard from his father and it caught Dean off guard. “Fine,” he finally said, his tone even.

John took a deep breath. “First, you should know I got that truck months ago, right after your brother left for Stanford.”

“Really?” Dean asked, genuinely surprised.

John nodded. “For no other reason than I really did think it would be good for you to have your own ride.”

“But…”

John held up a hand. “Whenever hunts took us in different directions, we’d always swing by Bobby’s and hope he had something decent for one of us to drive.”

“Which wasn’t always the case,” Dean muttered, remembering the Volkswagen van he’d been saddled with on his last solo hunt.

“No, it wasn’t,” John said, the corner of his mouth turning up in the ghost of a smile. “I just thought it would be nice to have another vehicle available for when we need it.” He paused briefly. “Or in the event you decided you wanted to go off on your own.”

Dean frowned. “Why would you think that?”

“I’m not an idiot, Dean. I know there were times when Sam was the only reason you put up with me and my bullshit.”

“Not the _only_ reason,” Dean muttered petulantly.

The admission pleased John if the small smile it evoked was anything to go by. 

“If that’s why you got the truck, why didn’t you just tell me?” Dean asked, frowning.

John huffed a wry laugh. “I wanted it to be a surprise. The weapons stash was custom, of course, and it took a while to work out a design, then get it made and installed. Bobby only got the truck back a couple of weeks ago. I had it plated and registered in your name and I was going to spring it on you the next time we had to go to Bobby for a vehicle, or your birthday, whichever came first.”

“Oh,” Dean said quietly. He thought about that for a minute before frowning once again. “Then why ask Bobby to go out of his way to give it to me now?”

John sighed. “Bobby said it was bad timing, that you might not take it the way I intended, but I didn’t listen,” he admitted. “The truth is, I just … I wanted you to have options. The very last thing I wanted was for you to feel like you were trapped with me after everything I’d done.”

Dean’s expression hardened a little. “What happened during the curse wasn’t your fault.”

“Whether it was or it wasn’t, it still happened,” John pointed out quietly. He finished the rest of his beer and put the bottle on a nearby table. “Pretending like it didn’t isn’t going to work for either of us.”

Dean was looking down, fidgeting with the label on his beer bottle. With a sigh, he put it down alongside John’s. “Yeah, I guess.”

“I know this won’t change anything, but I am so _so_ sorry, Dean.”

Dean looked up with a frown. “I told you, it wasn’t your fault.”

“If I hadn’t pissed off that bitch, you never would have been put in that position. That’s on me.”

Dean shrugged. “You didn’t know what she’d do.”

“Yeah, well,” John said, shaking his head slowly as he looked down at the floor. “That really doesn’t make me feel any better.”

Dean licked his lips nervously. “But you’re not … mad? At me, I mean.”

John raised his gaze to meet Dean’s, his expression one of resolve. “Of course not. I remember everything I said to you, Dean, and I meant it. Every word.”

“Then I don’t get it,” Dean admitted, frowning. “Why was it you could hardly look at me after it was broken?”

John turned and took a few steps away, looking up at the intricate devil’s trap on the ceiling for a long moment before turning to face Dean once again. “Because I _was_ angry and disgusted but with myself, not you.”

“Why? I meant what I said, too. It just wasn’t a big deal to me, not if it saved your life.”

A wry smile touched John’s lips at the sentiment. “I know,” he said. “God knows I don’t deserve that kind of loyalty, but I know.”

“And, what, you think you took advantage of that? Because in case you forgot, it was my idea in the first place.”

“I know that, too, but …”

“But nothing,” Dean persisted, his voice getting louder as though that was necessary to make John understand. “If you believed me when I said the sex was no big deal, then why…”

“Because it wasn’t _all_ just sex!” John blurted out, cutting Dean off.

Dean stared at him for a moment. “What?” he finally managed, his voice not much more than a whisper.

The expression on John’s face was one of grief and despair. “God help me, Dean, but I remember it all. _Everything_. At first it was all about breaking the curse but at the end, I didn’t even _know_ it was a curse.”

“I know,” Dean said quietly.

“Do you know how it feels to know that I _forgot_ you were my son?” John’s breath hitched and he swallowed once. “That wasn’t just sex to break a curse; that was me believing we were _lovers_.”

“It doesn’t change anything,” Dean said, shaking his head.

“It changes everything!” John practically shouted. “You did what you did to save my life, your _father_ and I betrayed that by letting my mind turn it into something it was never supposed to be.”

“No,” Dean argued, “You…”

“I made _love_ to you! My own son! Not because I had to but because I _wanted_ to!”

“Stop it!” Dean shouted.

They were silent for a moment, both breathing heavy with the emotion filling the room.

Dean took a moment to process everything that had been said. “You were cursed,” he finally said. “It was the curse that _made_ you forget.” He met his dad’s gaze head on. “Whether you want to admit it or not, it affected how you felt, especially once you didn’t remember why. All that matters is how you feel now that it’s gone.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” John asked wearily.

“Right now. No curse, no compulsion. Do you still feel like you want to bend me over that table and fuck my brains out?”

“What?!” John croaked incredulously. “Of course not! What the fuck, Dean? I’m your _father!_ ”

Dean just looked at him until John’s words registered in his own mind.

“Okay,” John finally said hoarsely. “You made your point.” He went to sit down in an old, patched-up chair that was surprisingly comfortable.

Dean hesitated a moment before moving to sit across from him, leaning forward with his forearms resting just above his knees, one hand absently fidgeting with the ring on the other. “Look, I know this is uncharted territory for us. There’s no research or weapon that’s gonna fix this one, but if we don’t come out the other side as something we can both live with, it was all for nothing.”

John thought about that for a moment. “I don’t know how to fix this. God knows I want to, but …”

“Together, that’s how. That’s what we agreed when this whole thing started, remember?” Dean reminded him. “I don’t want to lose you, not after everything we’ve been through. Please, Dad.”

John looked up at him with a sad expression. “Even before this curse, I haven’t exactly been celibate since I lost your mom.”

The seeming change of topic caught Dean off guard but after a moment, he decided it best to go with it. “You don’t say,” he quipped, one corner of his mouth turning up.

“But until … yesterday, last night, whatever … I guess I’d forgotten what sex could be like with someone you really care about. Someone you actually love.” He frowned a little in thought. “I know a parent’s love wasn’t what she had in mind when she cursed me, but when it got to the point where I couldn’t remember the witch or the curse… It might have been able to make me forget you were my son but it couldn’t make me forget how much I love you.”

“It just twisted it around in your head,” Dean surmised.

John nodded slowly. “Yeah. And it wasn’t fair to you, not when you didn’t realize why I was acting so…” He allowed the words to trail off, not knowing how to voice what he was thinking without sounding like a chick. 

Dean’s mind had taken a similar path, remembering how it had felt having John’s full attention without the burden of past memories. He cleared his throat after a minute. “Yeah, well…it’s not like I didn’t know you couldn’t remember. But I also knew we had to play it out ‘til the end if we wanted to break the curse.”

“And you did,” John said, pride showing in his eyes. “I don’t know that I could have handled it as well if the tables were turned.”

“If you want to call me busting you in the jaw handling it, then yeah, sure,” Dean said, trying to lighten the mood even though he winced a little at the memory.

“I deserved worse,” John huffed a wry laugh.

“It wasn’t all bad, though. I mean, as far as curses go, a week of sex really isn’t the worst thing I can think of.”

John leaned forward, copying Dean’s posture. “If it destroys you or makes you hate me, it’s the worst thing _I_ can think of.”

Dean frowned at him. “But it didn’t.”

“Dean, talk to me,” John practically pleaded. “Forget what you think you should say or what you think I want to hear and just tell me how you really feel.”

“Fine,” Dean said on a sigh. “Honestly?” He looked down at the ring on his finger, watching as he turned it around in a continuous circle. “The sex was good. I mean, some of it was _really_ good. Surprisingly so, even, but …”

“But?” John prodded gently.

Dean looked up at him then, his expression more vulnerable than he probably wanted. “But during it all, even before it made you forget who I was, I didn’t feel like I was your son and that’s more important to me. I can get sex anywhere, but…” He swallowed once. “You’re the only dad I’ve got.”

John felt a lump in his throat as he got to his feet and pulled Dean up and into a bone-crushing hug. “That’s important to me, too” he whispered, his voice gruff with emotion. “I really do love you, Son.”

Dean returned the embrace, knowing how lucky he was to still have his dad alive and well. “Yeah. I love you, too.”

After a moment, John pulled back, studying Dean’s face. “So, does this mean you want to carry on hunting together?”

“If that’s OK with you,” Dean said, trying to sound nonchalant.

“More than OK,” John said with a grin.

Dean returned it. “Awesome.”

John huffed a laugh and pulled him into another hug, taking a moment to get his emotions under control before releasing him once again.

“So, we’re good?” Dean asked.

“Yeah,” John said with a nod. He ducked his head in an uncharacteristic, self-conscious gesture. “I think we’d be kidding ourselves by thinking things can go entirely back to normal, but …”

“I know,” Dean concurred, “but that doesn’t have to be a bad thing, right?”

John looked up again with an affectionate smile. “No, it doesn’t.”

“And we’re the only ones who have to know,” Dean said with a small frown as he thought about Sam and what it could do to _their_ relationship if he ever found out.

“Well, us and Bobby,” John amended.

Dean snorted. “Poor Bobby. He’s probably upstairs doing research on brain bleach as we speak.”

John shook his head with a chuckle. “He probably never wanted to think about our sex lives separately, let alone together.”

Dean studied his dad’s face for a moment. “And you’re OK with knowing more about each other in that department than we should?”

John gave that the consideration it deserved. “Let’s just say if Bobby did come up with an effective brain bleach and offered it to me, I’m not sure I’d take it,” he said cryptically.

“Really?” Dean said with a pleased smirk. “I’m a memory worth keeping, huh?”

John snorted. “I don’t think your ego needs any boosting where your sex life is concerned,” he said. “But … yeah…regardless of what that says about me as a father.”

The admission sobered Dean a little and the smirk turned more affectionate than teasing. “I don’t think it has to say anything. We did what we had to do and if we both got some good memories out of it, that’s just a bonus in my book.”

“Just so you know, for all the mistakes I might have made as a father, thinking about you boys as anything other than my sons was never one of them.”

“I know,” Dean assured him.

John went to the fridge for another beer, grabbing a cold one for Dean as well. “Not that I wasn’t keenly aware of the way others looked at you as you got older,” he said grimly as he handed Dean the bottle.

Dean shrugged as he twisted off the cap. “It creeped me out a bit when I first started picking up on that, but I got used to it. Even learned to use it to my advantage when I had to.”

“Which is something that bothered _me_ when I first realized it, but I guess I got used to it to,” John said.

“What can I say?” Dean quipped. “You always taught us to use anything at our disposal.”

John shook his head in mild exasperation. “Not exactly what I had in mind,” he said, “but the way I pushed your training as you got older was as much about the human threats out there as it was the supernatural.”

Dean nodded as he thought about that. “And it came in handy a time or two.”

“I’m glad,” John said with a smile.

Dean frowned thoughtfully. “Do you remember that guy you used to hunt with when we were younger? Brandon or something like that.”

“Brenton,” John grated as though the name tasted bitter on his tongue. His expression hardened. “What about him?”

Dean shrugged. “I never told you this but he came around once when you were off on a hunt.”

“What?” John exclaimed. “When?”

“I was probably 16 or so,” Dean replied. “He said he’d met up with you and you’d asked him to come by and check on Sammy and me.”

“He was one of the people that sprang to mind when I mentioned how others looked at you boys and I would _never_ send someone like that to check up on you,” John declared. “Why the Hell am I just hearing about this now?”

“Because once I realized it wasn’t our welfare he was interested in, I handled it.”

“How?” John asked warily.

Dean rolled his eyes. “Relax. I didn’t shoot him and bury him in the backyard, but I did knock out a couple of his teeth.” He frowned a little. “Come to think of it, then I had to actually stop _Sam_ from shooting him once he realized why the guy was really there.”

“Christ,” John breathed.

“The point is, between the two of us, we handled it and that was because _you_ taught us how. So stop beating yourself up about the mistakes you think you made. We may not have had what most would consider a normal childhood, but you taught us the skills to fight off monsters and perverts alike. The skills we _needed_ to do what we do.” He paused to give that a chance to sink in. “You raised us right.”

John allowed his expression to morph into a small smile of gratitude. “I appreciate that.” He took a deep breath. “Now, about that truck.”

“It’s OK,” Dean said, “I really do like it and I shouldn’t have acted like such a pissy bitch when you gave it to me. I’m sorry.”

“But you like the Impala more,” John prodded.

Dean shrugged. 

“Bobby pointed out something that I should have realized on my own,” John admitted. “That car means more to you than just a means of transportation.”

Dean looked a little embarrassed. “Aside from you and Sammy, it’s the only thing I can remember that’s always been there.”

“Only I was gone a lot and Sam eventually went off to school.” John said. “The thing is, I thought you’d like the truck because _I_ really like it, but if you’d rather, I’ll sign the Impala over to you and get the truck registration changed to my name.”

“Really?” Dean asked.

John shrugged. “If that’s what you want.”

“Hell, yeah,” Dean exclaimed with a grin.

“Then she’s yours,” John said, smiling. 

“That’s awesome,” Dean breathed. After a moment, he frowned. “Wait, you’re not giving it to me just because I’m great in bed, right?”

John choked on the mouthful of beer he had. “What? No!” When he saw Dean grinning at him, he knew he’d been had. “Asshole,” he muttered.

Dean laughed outright at that. “Right back at ya.”

John glanced at his watch and looked around the room again. “It’s 10 pm. Do you really think he plans to leave us in here all night?”

“Probably,” Dean said.

“We could call him,” John said, taking his cell out of his pocket.

“Iron walls,” Dean pointed out. “You won’t get a signal.”

“Damnit,” John said upon realizing Dean was right.

“Though there was something…” Dean narrowed his eyes and scanned the wall near the door. When he found what he was looking for, he walked over and pushed a button. A red light came on and he grinned triumphantly. “Hey, Bobby, can you hear me?”

A moment later, Bobby’s voice sounded through a hidden speaker. “Yeah.”

“We, uh, talked, like you wanted,” Dean said. “You can let us out now.”

“Really,” Bobby said, feigning skepticism. “How do I know you didn’t just kill your old man to put us all out of our misery?”

Dean snorted.

“I heard that, Singer,” John said, though there was a smile in his voice. “Dean’s right, we’re good.”

“In that case, I’ll be right down.”

Dean let go of the button and the light went out.

“How did you know about that?” John asked, nodding toward the intercom.

“Like I said, Bobby used to let us play down here,” Dean said. “That light was always on and I never knew why until one time Sammy wanted to play a game and I was watching a movie.” He smirked as he thought back. “He grabbed this book that was all in Latin and started reading it at the top of his lungs, just to piss me off.”

“Sounds like Sam,” John said with a grin.

Dean nodded. “Yeah, he was probably eight at the time. He didn’t get more than a few lines out before Bobby came flying through the door and ripped the book out of his hands. Turned out, it was a book of spells and incantations.”

Bobby opened the door just in time to hear the end of the conversation. “Yeah,” he said, recalling the incident. “You came this close to having a daughter instead of a son.” He shrugged. “Temporarily, anyway.”

“So you were listening the whole time they were down here?” John asked.

Bobby scowled at him. “Of course, ya idjit. What did you think, I threw them in there and locked the door the moment you drove off? They liked to play in here but I always had the intercom on so I knew what they were up to.”

“And yet you let an eight year old get his hands on a powerful spell book,” John deadpanned, one eyebrow cocking. 

Bobby sputtered. “How was I supposed to know the kid could read Latin?”

Dean snickered and John’s lips twitched, letting Bobby in on the fact that they were pulling his leg. “Ha ha. At least Sam was getting the words right.” He looked at Dean. “Did your dad ever tell you about his first attempt at an exorcism?”

“Bobby,” John warned, though there was no real intent in the tone.

“No,” Dean grinned as he looked from one to the other. 

“Come on, I’ll tell you about it over a bowl of stew,” Bobby said as he led the way out of the room. “I’ve been keeping it warm on the off-chance you two would come to your senses sometime before the next millennium.”

“With that intercom system, you were probably hanging on every word,” John said as they were climbing the stairs.

Bobby stopped and turned so fast that Dean actually bumped into him.

“Is that what you think?” Bobby squawked. “That intercom was _off_ until Dean turned it on. Believe me, that was one conversation I did _not_ want to hear. There’s not enough brain bleach in the world for what I already know let alone adding the gory details!”

John and Dean both snickered at that.

“What the Hell is so funny?” Bobby demanded.

“Nothing,” Dean said with a shake of his head. “Dad was just yanking your chain.”

“What can I say? He makes it so easy.” John added with a smirk.

Bobby looked at them both like they’d lost their minds. “Winchesters,” he muttered as he turned around and continued up the stairs.

Once they were seated at the table with bowls of hot beef stew and beers, Dean prodded Bobby for the story he’d promised. “So, about this exorcism.”

Bobby snorted. “Yeah, that. It was your dad’s first one and I had offered to say the necessary words since I’d had more practice.”

John rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “Because you were _older_ , you mean.”

Bobby shot him a look before he turned to Dean. “But you know your old man, ‘I’m not stupid, you know, I can read a few words out of a book no matter what language it’s in’.”

Dean nearly choked on a mouthful of stew upon hearing Bobby’s impersonation of his father.

“I’ve never sounded like that in my life,” John said, though he was obviously amused.

“Anyway,” Bobby continued, “he started reading the exorcism and by the time he was done, the demon we had trapped was laughing her ass off.”

“Why?” Dean asked, looking back and forth between the two of them. “Because it didn’t work?”

“It didn’t work because I pronounced a couple of the words wrong,” John admitted, unable to hide a smile at the way Bobby was practically chortling at the other end of the table.

“Oh, he got the words wrong all right,” Bobby said gleefully. “Instead of sending that demon back to Hell, he asked her to _marry_ him!”

“No way,” Dean said, eyes widening as he looked at his father. When John merely shrugged, Dean threw his head back laughing. 

“Yeah, yeah, make fun of the Latin-challenged,” John said on a chuckle. “I’ll have you know that was the first and last one I ever screwed up.”

“Did you eventually get rid of her?” Dean asked.

“I took the book away from him and finished it myself,” Bobby said. “Wasn’t going to take the chance that his next attempt would be a pledge of allegiance to Hell or something like that.”

“Yuk it up,” John said, his eyes twinkling mischievously. “You’re not the only one with stories, you know.”

The next hour was spent swapping tales and enjoying good food and even better company. By then, Dean was feeling the exhaustion of the last few days catching up with him. “I don’t know about you guys, but I’m wiped,” he said, taking his bowl to the sink.

“Yeah, we could all use some shut-eye,” Bobby said. “The only extra beds I got are the ones you and Sam used to sleep in,” he added, directing the words at Dean, “but they’re there whenever you need ‘em. I hope you know that.”

“I do,” Dean said, clapping Bobby on the back as he passed him. “And thanks. G’night, Bobby.”

“G’night.”

Dean went up the stairs, leaving the two older men alone in the kitchen. 

“So, did you really work things out? Or just plaster the Winchester version of a band-aid on it, hoping it would go away eventually?” Bobby asked.

John sighed. “You were right, OK? Asking you to drive the truck up there was a bad idea.”

Bobby sat back, crossing his arms over his chest and narrowing his eyes at the other man. “Surely that can’t be _all_ I was right about.”

John shook his head with a small grin. “No, it wasn’t. We _did_ need to talk and we got a lot of things cleared up.” He paused a moment, the smile fading somewhat. “What he did, that was … I don’t think I can ever really tell him how much it means that he would do that for me.”

“He idolizes you,” Bobby said in way of an explanation. “Probably more than he should, truth be told.”

“More than I deserve, that’s for sure,” John concurred.

“That boy’s biggest problem is not knowing it works both ways,” Bobby said with a knowing look. When John looked at him in surprise, Bobby scoffed. “Don’t give me that look. You got a funny way of showing it sometimes, but as far as you’re concerned, the sun rises and sets on those boys of yours.”

John tried to muster an indignant glare, but it failed miserably when he couldn’t hold back a smile. “Yeah, I guess it does,” he admitted. 

Bobby’s eyes took on a gleam of satisfaction. “You’re a lucky man, John Winchester.”

John’s smile widened. “I know.”

***

By the time John got to the room he’d be sharing with Dean, the younger man was already in one of the beds with the lights out. John stripped down to his boxers and got into the empty bed on the other side of the room, laying there for a long moment in silence. “Dean?” he said quietly, in case Dean was alredy asleep.

“Yeah?” Dean responded, just as quietly.

“I just … I hope this whole thing hasn’t changed the way you feel about sex.”

Silence reigned in the room for a moment before Dean turned onto his back, his eyes closed. “Dude! Are you seriously asking me if you were so good that I’ll never want sex with anybody else?” He smirked as he heard his dad’s sputter of shock and indignation.

“Smartass,” John muttered once he caught on.

Dean huffed a laugh. “I can assure you my love of sex is alive and well. Next pretty girl I meet who’s willing, I’ll prove it.”

John didn’t respond and Dean thought maybe that was the end of it.

“And the guys?” John asked, his question even quieter than the last.

Dean opened his eyes and stared up at the darkness for a moment. They’d cleared up a lot, but there were some things that were just easier to talk about when you couldn’t actually see the person you were talking to. “That was never a regular thing,” he finally said with a small frown. “Or even semi-regular for that matter.” He paused a moment. “With girls it’s about attraction, having fun, but with guys …I guess there’s a certain attraction there, too, but it’s mostly …” He shrugged even though he knew his dad couldn’t see it in the dark.

“A good way to blow off steam?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Dean said, blinking once. “Usually after you and Sam had one of your blow-outs.”

“You felt like you were caught in the middle,” John guessed.

“I used to think that was better than having to choose sides,” Dean admitted. “Not sure it really mattered though.”

“You always did what you could to keep the peace,” John acknowledged. “It mattered.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

“But what you want matters, too,” John added. “It may not always be the same as what Sam wants or even what I want, but that doesn’t make it any less important. You know that, right?”

Dean frowned into the dark. He knew his dad was being sincere, but he also knew it didn’t always matter. What he _wanted_ was for things to go back to the way they used to be, the three of them hunting together, saving people. He _wanted_ his dad to be as happy as he’d seemed when he didn’t remember what he’d lost. He _wanted_ to believe that there wasn’t evil lurking around every corner, waiting to prey on unsuspecting innocents. 

But it didn’t matter what he wanted, any more or any less than what any of them wanted. Sam wanted a normal life but could he ever really have that, knowing that the monsters most people thought of as fairy tales were real? His dad wanted him and Sammy to be safe, but that sure as Hell wasn’t a given, not with the lives they led and the things they came up against. 

What Dean wanted might be every bit as important as what Sam and Dad wanted, but in the end, he wasn’t sure _any_ of it really mattered. Still, he knew what his dad was trying to say and he appreciated the sentiment. As long as they continued to fight the good fight, he could live with the fact that what they really wanted and what they were likely to get weren’t even in the same ball park. It wasn’t the most ideal life, or the most normal or the safest, but it was _theirs_ and if that was the hand they were dealt, they’d play it through to the end. They were _Winchesters_ , after all.

“Dean?”

Dean closed his eyes. “Yeah.”

“You do know that, don’t you?”

After only a brief pause, Dean swallowed once. “Yeah, I know.” 

“Good.”

Silence filled the small room for a long moment before John broke it once again. “We should probably get some sleep,” he suggested.

“Yeah,” Dean agreed, smiling a little. “G’night.”

“Good night, Son.”

***

When John entered the kitchen the next morning, it was to find Bobby already there. “Morning,” he grumbled. “Is there coffee?”

Bobby cocked an eyebrow but poured him a cup. “Did you sleep?”

“Yeah,” John said, accepting the cup and taking a seat at the table. “Felt like the first time in months.”

Bobby joined him at the table with his own cup. “Like I told Dean, it probably took a lot out of you.” He took a sip, eyeing the other man over the rim of the cup. “Probably wouldn’t be a bad idea to take a couple of days downtime.”

“Don’t need ‘em,” John said without hesitation. “I’m good, really. We’ll stay a day or so if that’s what Dean wants, but …”

“If what’s what Dean wants?” Dean asked as he entered the kitchen, looking like he was still half-asleep 

He made a beeline for the coffee pot and Bobby shook his head. “He’s his father’s son, that’s for sure,” he said, though there was the touch of a smile on his lips. “Morning, Sunshine,” he said, referencing a storybook Dean used to like.

Dean poured himself a cup and took an appreciative sip before joining them at the table. “Morning,” he said to both men. “If what’s what Dean wants?”

“Bobby thought we might want to take some downtime,” John answered.

“Oh,” Dean said, taking another sip of his coffee with a small frown. “Thanks, Bobby, but I’m good to go.” He turned to his dad, one eyebrow rising slowly. “Unless you need it.”

“I don’t.”

“Then I vote we hit the road.”

“Speaking of which,” John said, directing his words at Bobby. “Do you have a problem with me leaving my truck here until I need it?”

“I thought the truck was supposed to be Dean’s,” Bobby said with a small frown.

Dean grinned. “Dad gave me the Impala instead.” 

“Oh, he did, did he?” Bobby asked with a knowing smile.

John rolled his eyes but his own lips were twitching. 

“In that case, you can leave the truck here as long as you want. It’ll be here when you need it.”

John nodded in appreciation before turning to Dean. “We’ll stop at the DMV and get the paperwork sorted out.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Dean said, draining his coffee cup. “What about a job?” he asked, turning to Bobby. “You got anything for us?”

“Found a couple of things that might be worth checking out,” Bobby said with a nod. “Help me make breakfast and I’ll fill you in while we eat.”

“You know what they say about too many cooks,” John said with a smirk as he got to his feet. “I’m going to take a shower.”

The way Bobby and Dean worked together in the kitchen was testament to the fact that it wasn’t the first time they’d done so. “You seem to be in a good mood,” Bobby said after a few moments of companionable silence while he got started cracking eggs into a bowl and Dean cooked bacon.

Dean smirked. “You kidding me? This is exactly the outcome I didn’t dare hope for.”

“But not the one you were expecting,” Bobby stated, knowing how Dean’s mind worked.

Dean shrugged, somewhat uncomfortable at being so transparent, but he didn’t say anything.

“I know he doesn’t always show it, but hunting was never more important than you boys.”

Dean nodded with a small smile. “I get that. He feels bad about some of the choices he made when we were kids, but I know he made them because he wanted us safe.”

Bobby was pleased that Dean knew that. “Yeah, he did.”

Dean glanced over at the older man with a smile that was part affection, part amusement. “You can stop fretting like an old woman,” he teased. “If nothing else, this whole thing gave us an even better understanding of one another. We’re good.”

“Good,” Bobby said with a nod of satisfaction. “Just … keep him away from witches, will ya? I’m too old for this crap.”

Dean snorted. “I’ll do my best.”

While they ate breakfast, Bobby filled them in on the two cases he’d come across while searching the Internet. 

“The university’s closer,” Dean pointed out, looking at his dad. “Sounds like a vengeful spirit.”

John nodded. “That was my thought.” He glanced at his watch. “If we leave within the hour, we could be there by nightfall.”

Dean nodded. “Sounds good.” He finished his cup of coffee and took his dishes to the sink. “Since Bobby and I cooked, it’s only fair that you get clean-up duty,” he told his dad with a smirk. 

John rolled his eyes. “Fine.” 

“Awesome. Just don’t break any of Bobby’s fine china. I’m gonna hit the shower.” 

John shook his head once Dean had left the room. “Was he always such a smartass?” he asked as he started clearing the table.

Bobby snorted. “Pretty much, yeah. Like I said, he’s his father’s son.” 

John huffed a wry laugh. “He told me yesterday that I raised them right, but …”

“You made your share of mistakes,” Bobby said once John’s words trailed off. “But what parent doesn’t? They’re good men, John. And good hunters in their own right. You can’t ask for more than that.”

“Yeah,” John said, smiling.

“And if Dean’s grown to feel comfortable enough in his own skin to show you that smartass side of his instead of just the dutiful ‘yes sir, no sir’, that’s a good thing in my book. Doesn’t mean he’s lost even an ounce of the respect he’s always had for you.”

“I know that,” John said with a nod. “I’ve just noticed a difference since Sam went off to school. He had a hard time of it at first, but given how much time they spent in such close quarters, I wasn’t surprised.”

“Yeah,” Bobby concurred. “He spent most of his life being half of ‘Sam and Dean’.”

“And that’s how I saw him,” John admitted. “As one of my sons, but the one I counted on to look after the other. He never got a chance to just be ‘Dean’.”

“Well he’s getting that now,” Bobby pointed out. “And I’m glad, smartass remarks and all.”

John laughed. “Yeah, me too.”

Once Dean had showered and they’d gathered what little they had with them, Bobby saw them out to the car.

“Just be careful,” Bobby told them both. “And pick up the phone once in a while, you hear?”

“Yeah, we will,” Dean said with a smile. “Thanks for everything, Bobby.”

“Come here, ya idjit,” Bobby said gruffly even as he pulled Dean into a hug that Dean was happy to return. “Take care of yourself.”

“I will,” Dean said. “You, too.”

“We’re not leaving the country, you know,” John said from where he stood beside the Impala, though the affectionate smirk he wore belied the words. 

Bobby released Dean and went over to clap John on the shoulder. “Just try to stay out of trouble for a while, will ya?”

“We’ll do our best,” John said, shaking Bobby’s hand.

“That doesn’t exactly instill me with a whole lotta confidence,” Bobby grumbled.

Dean snorted. “Yeah, trouble’s kinda what we do.”

“Then I guess you’d best get outta here and get on with it,” Bobby said.

John tossed the keys to Dean. “Your car, you drive,” he said with a grin.

“Hell, yeah,” Dean agreed as he walked around to the driver’s side.

Bobby shook his head in fond exasperation as he watched them go. He’d been worried they might not make it through this one, not with their relationship intact at any rate. But, if anything, they seemed even stronger, more on even ground than he’d ever seen them. “Should’a known it would take more than a witch and her piddly curse to bring them down,” he muttered to himself with the hint of a smile. 

After all, they were the _Winchesters_.

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who stuck with this through to the end, and to all who took the time to comment. :) I know this ending won't please everyone, but I had to stay true to the story that developed and the characters as they were portrayed in my head if nowhere else. In the beginning, it was a matter of me challenging myself, wondering if I could write hot sex between these two without actually writing them into a continuing sexual relationship. I honestly believe John Winchester truly loved his sons and I believe the father/son relationship is more important to both of them than a sexual one could ever be. I sincerely hope no one is too disappointed, but feel free to voice it if you need to; I can take it. ;) Thanks again. It was a lot of fun to write and your comments and kudos made it that much more enjoyable.


End file.
